Waiting on a Friend
by 77Steph
Summary: UPDATED FOR BD2 PREMIERE - THE OPENING SETTING IS BASED ON AS IMAGINED - Bella is a wife, mother, and career woman until an unexpected meeting at a Hollywood movie premiere leads to more than flirtation. Her decisions gradually destroy those she loves, but how close to the ultimate sacrifice must Edward come for her to follow her heart. Angsty. AH, AU, BxE
1. Chapter 1

Just when I thought the screaming could not get any louder, a new chorus of high pitched shrieking and 'Oh My Gawds!' erupted from the front of the crowd. Yep, Jasper Whitlock must have finally arrived at the theater and the whole space outside was filled with screaming fans, fawning interviewers and innumerable cameras. The theater stood at one side of a broad plaza, bordered with neon signs and large screens, feeling somewhat like the middle of a sports stadium. Everyone one in the plaza was focused on, if not physically converging on the spot Jasper currently occupied. It reminded me of the time I got talked into a bridal sale and almost got trampled in the stampede as the doors were opened.

I was standing on the red carpet - well, technically it was mainly black with some red and gray patterns – but, it was THE carpet that all the cast would also walk. The cast being the stars of the of the blockbuster vampire series that had dominated pop culture for the past several years. This particular red carpet was the last for this ensemble of actors, the premier of the fifth and final film of the series.

My best friend, Angela Weber Cheney, had gotten passes to the première as a gift from her father, a Hollywood producer, in celebration of her divorce from her loser husband, Ben. That's why I was here in Los Angeles, supporting Angela as her divorce was finalized in court yesterday and helping her "get her groove back" by attempting to orbit close enough to Jasper Whitlock to absorb some of the excess sexual energy he emitted.

I was just glad to be having this little "vacation" at all. I was a devoted wife and working mother of two kids, Billy and Claire, both under the age of six. My husband Jacob and I had a modest home in the Maryland suburb of Takoma Park and we both worked our butts off to afford it. Jake was a motorcycle mechanic and part-owner of a garage outside of Washington, D.C. and I worked as a policy advisor at a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting better nutrition in school lunch programs. With two children about to enter the school system, it was a cause close to my heart. Between the Congressional schedule, doing the job of three people at the office, and arranging for the care of the kids for the six days I would be gone, only the depth of my friendship with Angela was enough to get me here.

Angela and I had been roommates while attending college in Washington, D.C. and stayed close friends even after she had moved back to LA to be close to her family. I had been a shy, bookish girl from the small town of Forks, Washington and immediately taken to the smart, cosmopolitan, and kind Angela. We bonded over being West coast girls away from home for the first time and spent the next six years growing to be like sisters. We both got married and started our families within a few years of each other which helped to maintain our relationship over the distance.

Tonight, Angela and I were loitering near the entrance to the theater, postponing the walk inside. All the action was still outside and Angela did not want to miss a second of Jasper. She had never been one for celebrity crushes with living in LA and occasionally meeting famous people that her father worked with; they were just folks in the entertainment business. But as her marriage to Ben began to disintegrate, a celebrity crush was a good distraction from her actual life. If she wanted to fawn over Jasper and maybe have the chance to meet him, I fully supported her adolescent behavior.

And, I was not so above the adolescent fawning myself. I, in particular, had a bit of a crush on Jasper's best friend, Edward Cullen. Of course, Jasper Whitlock as the star and romantic lead of the series was very good looking, but he had a couple equally attractive friends that had been propelled to fame along with him. Edward was also an actor and grew up with Jasper in London. They shared friends, clothes, scripts, drunken escapades and a legion of speculators about their romantic entanglements. While Angela was hoping to get close to Jasper, I was just hoping to enjoy the spectacle. Besides, I had a hot husband at home. Jake was well over 6 feet tall with dark eyes and hair, and the smile that could light up a room. But still, I wouldn't mind a glimpse of Edward.

"Bella, he's heeerrreee," Angela squealed in my ear while jumping up and down next to me.

"Ang, I can tell from the increase in decibels," I hissed back, "and you need to stop screaming; it's already deafening here and you look like an idiot."

"Oh, and what should I do to express my excitement, crack correspondent Bella Black? Get my interview questions ready?" Angela teased me. She was referring to the short list of questions I had prepared in case I did have the opportunity to speak to Edward. They weren't professional journalist style, more like a psychological test so that they could not evade answer like so many open ended questions. Celebrities always seemed to be able to evade open-ended questions they did not want to answer. They also were pretty good at evading point blank questions too, but I just didn't want to be one of those people that don't know what to say when they meet a famous person. I didn't want to waste my 15 seconds with Edward reciting trite compliments.

"Thanks for reminding me," I replied taking my short list out of my handbag. The crowd near us seemed to grow a bit more agitated and Angela stood on her toes trying to see what was causing the commotion.

"It's just Maria," she said indifferently. Maria Houston was the romantic lead of the series and seemed to be Jasper's off-screen romantic interest too. I was ambivalent about whether or not their romance was real, but speculation was rife among the series fans.

We stood back a bit as Maria and her handlers passed by where we were standing so that she could get closer to her screaming fans. The crowd near us was jostling together in unsteady anticipation. Thinking of my clumsy feet and the pair of heels Angela talked me into wearing, I looked for a slightly less open spot to stand. As I backed toward a corner of the carpet near the theatre entrance, I caught the heel of my low pumps and stumbled into someone.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, I don't know why my friend forced me out of the house in heels," I apologized to the person as I attempted to right myself. I could feel the blush creeping up my cheeks under the curtain of my long brown hair.

"It was my _completely_ my fault," a low, hypnotic British accent replied. "I was trying to creep away inconspicuously from the crowd and wasn't paying attention." _Crap, I recognize that voice_. Of course the one person I hoped not to be a complete idiot in front of was the one person I managed to assault with my clumsiness. I finally peered from behind my hair to see a chagrined Edward standing to my right. He was wearing a black suit tailored in a sharp 1960s style and his dark locks were hanging in the usual disarray around his head. One strand had fallen over an electric blue eye causing my fingers to drift up with the urge to smooth it back.

"No, we both must have been attempting to head for the most inconspicuous spot on the carpet and just happened to arrive at the same time. I'm sure if there is any fault it's mine," I rambled. Okay, _happened to arrive at the same time_, thanks brain, is that all you've got. I felt the blush reignite on my cheeks.

"Do you mind if I share your spot for a few minutes. I'm just waiting for a friend," he replied like everyone in a square mile radius did not know exactly who he was and why he was there.

"I know. I know," I stuttered. "I mean, of course you can stand here, I'm glad to share THE inconspicuous spot." I looked over to Angela in a panic, but Jasper must have approached right behind Maria because all I could see was Ang's head bobbing up and down a few feet away with a small crowd of people between us now.

When I looked back to Edward, he smiled tentatively and extended his hand. "I'm Edward, it's very nice to share THE spot with you," he quipped charmingly. I reached out my hand to shake his and then noticed I was grasping my paper with the interview questions on it. After awkwardly transferring the paper to my other hand, I shook his hand.

"Uh, Bella," I finally responded. He must think I was slow and I just spit out the first thing I could think of…well, probably because I had practiced saying it just in case. "Would you mind if I asked you a few questions, uh, sort of like an interview, but not really…more like a psychological experiment, but I'm not a doctor or anything, so…"

"A psychological experiment, that's, um, unexpected…alright, I guess I'm not really doing anything else," he said and seemed to be mildly amused and curious.

"Okay," I explained, "these are either/or questions and you can't answer maybe, but you can pass if you want."

"Alright," he replied waiting.

"Black or white," I asked, starting the interview.

"Ahhhh, black, I guess." I was secretly happy he had said 'black' since that is my last name and I gave a little smirk. "What?" he asked, "Did I answer right?"

"There is no right or wrong," I said bringing my hands up to my chest and bowing a bit. "There just is," I said in imitation of new age hippy speak.

"Next question… book version or movie version?" This question was designed to help me officially determine if he was more passionate about film or literature. I knew he liked both, but I really wondered where his heart lay.

"That depends, but, I mean, books are usually much more intricate… they can contain much more detail…and be interpreted as the reader wishes or can imagine." He closed his eyes as he tried to explain, like he was recalling what he had imagined the last time he'd read a book.

"Of course movies and all film in general allow one particular vision of a story or an idea to be explored, often quite beautifully, but also within constraints and…limitations…it's more of a collective vision of a group of people rather than some individual idea." He rambled this looking me straight in the eyes, almost as if lecturing and looking for a flash of understanding from a student.

"It's an either or question…" I scolded so that I wouldn't get swept away staring back.

"Well, I suppose I would have to say I prefer not having to compromise the intellectual effort…no that's not exactly what I mean, but you get the general idea." It was endearing and reassuring that he was as much at a loss for words as I was.

"I'd probably have to say book version." he concluded with a grin and lift of his chin.

"You are not very good at simply answering interview questions are you? Would you prefer an exam?" It was easy to tease him since he was so self-depreciating even after he'd basically recited an essay on film and literary theory.

"No exams, please," he groaned, "I'm not overly fond of being graded and didn't you say there is no right or wrong?"

"I wouldn't grade it, it would just be for extra credit," I retorted back, unwilling to let him use my words against me.

"And what would I get to do with all that extra credit?" he drawled at me in his soft accent. His blue jewel eyes sparkled in challenge back to me. My heart stopped.

"You would get a chance to answer my next question." It was a total cop out answer, but I was a little shaken by how quickly our conversation became a flirtation…thrilled, but a bit frightened. Plus, I really could not say some of the things I would let him do out loud, so I flicked my hair back showing a bit of defiance instead.

"Okay, on to number three… hi-fi or low-fi?" I was all business, but I was also insanely curious about his answer to this question. I knew Edward was a music fan and a bit of a musician too, but we probably had really incompatible musical tastes. My passion was live music; the grittier the better and I really liked the low-fi sound of vinyl records. I wondered if he would share my taste or even know what I was asking.

"Um, you mean like musically?" he asked for clarification and I nodded and grinned idiotically with joy.

"I guess I would have to say low-fi, although for certain technical stuff I would probably prefer the hi-fi recordings so that the finer points of the recording process wouldn't be dropped out." I loved how he pronounced his words, like process with a long o - English public-school proper, but mumbled all together at the same time.

"Me too," I couldn't help but reveal although he probably didn't really care and was just humoring me so he wouldn't be bored while waiting for Jasper to finish up on the red carpet.

He leaned closer to my ear and teased, "Isn't the researcher supposed to be neutral in these types of experiments?" I felt his warm breath on my ear and gave a little shiver of delight.

I leaned to him in turn and said in his ear, "Yes, but I'm not really a researcher."

"Then what are you?" His eyes locked with mine in a silent dare to continue the flirtation.

"Curious." I deadpanned.

"Me too," he crooned. "How many more questions do you have on your list?" His question meant to subtly challenge my lead.

"A few… Do you want more?" I asked, blatantly teasing him now. I was still a little bit scared to flirt openly with him, but it felt natural and it was _so_ easy.

"Is that one of your questions? It's not an either/or. Let me see the list." He put his head closer to mine attempting to read my scribbles.

"Excuse me, Edward," a pretty blonde woman interrupted our banter. "Jasper is going in now." Abruptly, Edward stood up and stepped back towards the door.

"Delightful meeting you Bella," he said carefully for our audience of one. "I appreciate you sharing the perfect spot."

I nodded, not trusting myself not to reply under the watchful eyes of the woman. I had definitely found out that Edward Cullen had a way of making me act like a spellbound groupie.

As I watched him retreat into the theater, Angela finally found her way back to my side.

"Did you see? I got about two feet away from Jasper. I almost touched him," Angela gushed.

"No," I responded, "the crowd was too thick."

I decided to keep the exchange between Edward and me to myself, at least until the end of the evening. Angela was too hopped up on Jasper and I didn't want to steal her thunder. Maybe she would have a chance to meet Jasper at the after party and then we could trade our stories without either of us feeling disappointed.

"I think we should go to our seats now. I heard that the movie was about to start," I said to channel Angela away from the topic and into the theatre. I couldn't wait for the movie to begin so I could replay the exchange between Edward and me without interruption.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.****AN: I am planning to update this story on a semi-weekly basis. I have written about eight chapters - a bit more than half, so hopefully I will be faithful to that promise. I've had some RL inspiration for my version of Edward, but some cannon character traits have been retained, either because I like them or they are necessary for the plot. This is fan fiction after all. Enjoy!**

I could not have recounted what the movie was about if I hadn't read the book it was based on several times. I had spent the whole film replaying my conversation with Edward and still found myself in disbelief. He'd probably just been bored. That was the only logical reason he would have been flirting with me, let alone even talking to me. Thankfully, Angela wasn't really into the series as much as she was just… into Jasper… so she didn't ask me any probing questions about how closely the movie matched the book.

The after party for the première was at a restaurant in the same complex as the movie theater so we slowly wandered over after stopping by the ladies room to fix any damage done during the movie. The left side of my hair in particular seemed to have suffered from repeated unconscious tugging at the curls. Angela giggled and walked over to help me fix the mess I'd made.

"This reminds me of DC," she said wistfully. "Remember how I always had to help you fix your hair before we went out and then again in the bathroom anytime you wanted to talk to a hot guy - although none of those bathrooms were ever as nice as this." The movie theater bathroom was fairly utilitarian, but did have a counter and a large wall mirror above the sink.

"By nice, you mean clean and equipped with a mirror that wasn't covered with stickers and graffiti?" I joked back. Angela and I shared a love of indie music; punk, rockabilly, garage, electronica; and that music filled much of our free time in college. Unfortunately, the clubs and dive bars we frequented rarely cleaned or improved their facilities. But, at least I had learned to make do without toilet paper in a pinch and had seen some mind blowing bands before they had sold-out, imploded or overdosed.

Angela finished smoothing my stray hairs back into the styled long, loose curls I was wearing. We'd spent all day being pampered and primped at a spa in Korea Town and Angela's favorite salon near her home in the Silver Lake neighborhood of LA. My skin was glowing from the full body scrub (or was that just a lingering blush from my conversation with Edward) and my hair tumbled in artful disarray around my shoulders. The woman reflected in the mirror was unrecognizable from the woman I'd been just a few months ago. I'd recently lost about 20 pounds of post-baby weight. My motivation had been a declaration by my five year old that I was "squishy," just like her favorite gummy fruit snacks. To show off the return of the old me, Angela suggested I wear a black vintage dress she liked from our college days that finally fit again. I was actually happy with my appearance.

Angela watched me assessing the "new me" as she finished reapplying her lipstick and smiled to me through the mirror. "Come on, you are gorgeous," she reassured. "Let's go rock this after party."

The bar of the restaurant twinkled with thousands of tea lights and their flames reflected off the borrowed jewels, metallic dresses and hyper-white teeth of the elite crowd. In the soft glow, I recognized several Hollywood actors, a handful of rock stars, and of course, the cast, while I slowly scanned the room for Edward. When I could not locate him, my spirits fell at the thought that he might not even be there. Damn Bella, obsessive much, I thought. It's not like I would ever see him again after tonight and what did I expect to happen anyway…I was married and lived in D.C. with a husband and two children. I might as well have the minivan with stickers representing each member of the blissful family unit on the back windshield.

A mass of people had roughly queued up along one side of the bar to have their photos taken with the cast members. Angela made a beeline towards the group surrounding Jasper as I promised to bring her a beverage from the bar. I immediately felt in my element as I leaned up against the bar trying to get the bartender's attention and tapping my fingers along to the syncopation of the dance music blaring through the air. I definitely was at home ordering a couple of drinks at a bar while loud music wailed in the background. After a couple minutes, the bartender handed me two rum and Cokes. I turned with one in each hand, on my mission to find Angela and deliver one, when I felt a tingle of warm, moist air down my back.

"Double fisting it? Did you think the movie was that bad?" Edward's smooth voice stopped me in my tracks and I had an urge to just lean back and press my backside against him.

"In this crowd, I guess I would have to say it was the best movie I ever saw," I replied without turning.

"What if it was just you and I, no crowd?" he countered. The boy did not waste any time turning on the charm or the double entendres.

I took a sip of my drink through the small cocktail straw for liquid courage and finally turned to face him. "Then, I would have to confess that I barely remember the movie because I was distracted," I said shakily, but finishing the last word with a smirk. _Damn_, just being near him made me flirt shamelessly.

"Would that be because you were making your assessment of my answers to your little list of questions?"

I hadn't actually thought much about his answers to the questions. The way he looked, the sound of his voice, the gestures, yes; but analyzing the actual answers, no. I still had so many questions I would love to ask him.

"I didn't get to finish all the questions so I couldn't perform an analysis," I snapped back.

"I think I could help you remedy that problem. Do you still have your list?" He was the one smirking now. It made me want to stare at his lips… I _did_ stare at his lips, but no remedy there, just a path in deeper.

He smiled wider, as if reading my mind, but still waiting for my reply.

"Okay, but I don't need the list. There are only two more questions and I remember them from earlier. But I warn you – they are kind of weird, and probably only significant to me, so be prepared," I felt like I had to warn him.

"I don't mind weird."

"Okay, Mods or Rockers?" I questioned quickly.

"Pardon?"

"Mods or Rockers," I said again more slowly thinking he probably really thought I was lame, or daft, as he would probably call me. _God, please don't let him call me daft to my face_.

"Like Quadrophenia?" he asked scrunching up his nose. Yep, definitely thought I was daft. I was slightly obsessed with musical subcultures... okay, I was a total music nerd and things like that were important to me, even if only in an idle way. Now that my nerdiness was exposed, I suddenly felt a bit cheesy for being so focused on this minor point. I could feel my face flaming with embarrassment and all in the name of a random question that I had always thought I would ask him if I had the opportunity. Stupid random musical subculture fascination.

"I guess... I mean is that even still a relevant distinction now? Isn't most of the mod music just called rock now anyway?" His fingers ran through his hair rapidly. "What were the Stones considered?" he asked, trying his best to make sense of it, but he was at a loss as to even answer the question.

Of course I persevered, spouting something random that sounded like a poorly researched Wikipedia article, "Well, I think both Mods and Rockers liked the Stones, but they kind of veered off into Rocker territory as they went on, got rougher and more bluesy."

"Which do you prefer?" he asked, those blue eyes trying to hypnotize the answer from me.

"Well, it would taint the whole experiment if I told you," I teased coyly. In an attempt to end the uncomfortable banter, I relented after a few seconds, "Rockers, definitely… I don't think my constitution is strong enough for all the pills I'd have to take to be a proper Mod."

"I'll say Rocker, too. I don't think I could do the whole scooter thing, you know I'm not really good with things that have wheels…although the Mods were pretty brilliant in that film – especially Sting."

"I know, so beautiful in their defiance against the status quo, but so empty and doomed at the same time," I waxed, philosophical. I probably could have made the same observation of many rebellious youth movements.

"But that doomed defiance is what makes it a story worth telling," Edward waxed right back at me. Ah, we'd moved from music nerd territory into philosophical art chat...swoon.

I rattled the remaining ice cubes in my empty drink at him as a reply and set it down on a nearby table. I couldn't think about anything as convoluted as cultural and artistic implications of social movements while trying not to get caught up in the lull of his voice and pull of his gaze.

The next question I had on my list to ask him was about Bowie and Jagger, but after one overly obsessive and awkward music nerd question, I really did not want a repeat. Plus, I didn't want my mind wandering too far down the lane of hot musicians. I would probably be embarrass myself in attempting to discuss homoeroticism in late 70s rock, so instead I took a sip of the drink I had procured for Angela and just asked the first question that came to mind.

"Good or Bad?"

"Good," he replied without hesitation. I was oddly glad he could answer that question so quickly. "I was thinking about possible questions during the film and that was one I had thought you might ask." His explanation led me to believe that he probably had seen as much of the movie as I did.

"So, have we finally come to the end of all your questions," he teased_. _

_Of course not, you silly boy_, I thought to myself, _I could ask you questions all night long_. But I nodded in the affirmative, too afraid that I was going to embarrass myself with further questions from my random list.

"And, what am I?" he asked expectantly.

Um how do I reply to that…ah, charming, gorgeous, brilliant, sexy…

I must have had a puzzled look on my face because he explained himself further.

"I meant, in terms of your little experiment. What are your findings about me?"

I felt a bit slow, like his brain was light years ahead of mind. I deliberately took a long sip of my drink thinking alcohol might actually help clear my brain of its lustfog and quickly contemplated all of his answers.

"I diagnosis you as a dark, moody lover of poetic, dirty rock and roll with a good heart." I don't even know how my brain produced that assessment, but it sounded pretty close to my dream guy.

"How did you get moody from my answers?" he asked, pretending to be perturbed.

"See, you are being petulant right now, that's how." I pretended to scold right back.

"So you are a precognitive researcher? How is that fair?"

"It's just one of my many amazing abilities, and mere mortals, such as yourself, don't really have a chance. It's not fair…but I am benevolent."

"If you are benevolent, do I get a reward for participating in your research?" he asked with a cute smirk.

"I might have a reward somewhere in here for you." I replied as a pulled my clutch out from under my arm and opened it. I felt a bit like I was searching my purse for a crayon to entertain one of the kids. Cell phone, ID, lipstick…I guess it would have to be the flyer I had picked up at a coffee shop in Silver Lake. Angela and I stopped to get coffee on our way to the première and the flyer for a show by a band I liked, but never had the opportunity to see in D.C., had caught my eye.

"You get this beautiful 'four by five' flyer featuring an advertisement for the White Lips show at Spaceland tomorrow night."

"Not really what I was hoping for," he faux whined, "but it sounds interesting. Who are the White Lips?"

"Um, they are this great band from Georgia, very garage-y, named after a Sandberg poem, low-fi…you'd probably like 'em. You should come…I mean, you should go to the show." I felt myself blushing over my own double entendre and hoped he wouldn't notice. "I'll be there," I added this fact in a little singsong, like it was an incentive.

I went to hand him the flyer, but accidentally let go of it before he had it in his grasp. We both watched as it fluttered to the ground and landed near my left foot. I immediately bent down while trying to keep my knees modestly together (Thank God for my yoga classes) to retrieve the paper in my left hand.

I felt his eyes on me as I attempted to swiftly recover from the pseudo-intimate position; my head near his crotch and my cleavage on full display. When I looked back to him, his eyes were a bit glazed, but he had a smile on his lips. He'd definitely enjoyed my little unintentional show.

As I handed the flyer over to him again, his expression changed from mild amusement to cold scrutiny. The juxtaposition was shocking and I almost turned around to see if some mortal enemy or a paparazzo was approaching behind me.

"You're married." It was a statement full of questions.

"Yes," I barely breathed the word.

I looked down at the flyer in my hand and saw the diamonds of my wedding bands twinkling in the candlelight. My face was cool all of the sudden as the heat of my blush and all the blood in my extremities drained away. I felt instantly transformed into a pale imitation of the bold vixen I had been playing.

Yes, I had been playing, but not with any cruel intentions.

I had just gotten caught up in the trappings and the dreamlike experience of meeting Edward Cullen. Although I had given much thought as to why he might be speaking with me, the last thing I had imagined was any real interest. He was Edward Cullen. His best friend was Jasper 'Millions of Women Want Me' Whitlock. He was intelligent, gorgeous, talented and totally out of my league.

And, I hadn't really done much but flirt back. He had approached me. My wedding ring had been on my hand the whole time. I hadn't told him I was married, but it hadn't really come up. We hadn't touched on anything remotely related in our conversation. So why did I feel so ashamed.

"I didn't mean to lead you on…" I began my explanation as I looked back up into his now stormy blue eyes. "I had my ring on and I never dreamt you…" My words faltered as he held a hand up to stop me. His body had become rigid during my explanation and he no longer looked into my eyes.

"I'm probably needed over near Jasper," he said in a low, flat tone. He did not look at me again as he turned and walked toward the crowd still waiting to meet Jasper.

I sat down heavily at an empty table near where we had been standing because I felt like the floor had fallen away from the bottom of my feet. The flame of the tea lights on the table blurred as unshed tears clouded my vision. I let the flyer I still held in my left hand fall to the tabletop.

The flickering lights made me think of stars, falling stars, plummeting from the heavens to the dark Earth and I willed my tears not to fall.

Eventually, I realized I could not lose it here at the after party, surrounded by cameras and people that would probably remember I had been speaking to Edward if some sort of scene occurred. I did not need that in my life. Edward, and vicariously Jasper, especially did not need a crazy female fan incident to mar their night.

So I wandered back to the bar to get a couple more drinks. Somehow the one I had from earlier seemed to be empty. I headed toward the line where I hoped to find Angela and deliver the drink I had promised her what seemed like hours ago, but was probably only 15 minutes. Thankfully, I quickly located her head bobbing animatedly while she talked to a couple other women off to one side of the line. I looked around for Edward, but didn't see him near Jasper and the fans.

"Oh Bella, what took you so long?" Angela cried loudly when I appeared. "I got to meet Jasper and have my picture taken with him. He is sooo tall and sooo nice," she parroted almost every other fan reaction I have heard about him.

"That's awesome, Ang," I tried to reply with enthusiasm. Her attention veered back to Jasper as she introduced me to the two new friends she had met and they related their experiences meeting him. Eventually, I politely whispered to Angela that I had developed a headache and reminded her that she didn't want to be home too late since she would have her son, Benji, to deal with at some point in time tomorrow.

As we walked out into the plaza in front of the restaurant, Angela made me stop and wait for her to take pictures of the crews slowly breaking down all evidence of the red carpet. I looked back up to the windows, but could only make out vague shadows of figures within. But, I felt his eyes on me the whole walk down the plaza until we finally turned the corner onto the sidewalk.

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**T-Rex – The Motivator - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/T.+Rex/_/The+Motivator**

**Babyshambles – There She Goes - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/Babyshambles/_/There+She+Goes**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.****AN: ****I modeled the band for this story, The White Lips - on an actual band, The Black Lips (not a big stretch, I know) for the purpose of presenting the music style and genre. To actual personnel of the band will NOT appear in the story and anything related to a band other than the songs on the playlist is fictional. I'm sure the guys in the Black Lips would be shocked (and possibly horrified) to know they were connected to Twilight fan fiction. That being said, give their music a try, if only to enhance your reading experience.**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Black Lips**** – ****Hippie, Hippie, Hoorah [Live Version]****- ****www****[dot]****last****[dot]****fm/music/Black+Lips/_/Hippie%2C+Hippie%2C+Hoorah+%5BLive+Version%5D**

**Black Lips**** – ****Stranger**** - ****www****[dot]****last****[dot]****fm/music/Black+Lips/_/Stranger+%5BLive+Version%5D**

**Black Lips – Dirty Hands - www****[dot]****last****[dot]****fm/music/Black+Lips/_/Dirty+Hands+%5BLive+Version%5D**

I drove my rental car over to the show at Spaceland as early as possible without being rude. I hadn't wanted to linger around Angela's house while she was putting Benji to bed. It made me homesick for Billy and Claire. I had spoken to them earlier to say goodnight, but hadn't gotten to read a bedtime book to over the phone since Jake was letting them watch a movie. Just the sound of their cries as they argued over which movie to watch brought tears to my eyes. I felt very selfish for taking this time away from them, although I logically knew that this little vacation was good for me.

Angela had wanted to come along with me to the show, but she had a morning meeting she could not get out of and I didn't press the issue. She'd already taken the earlier part of the week off to deal with her divorce proceedings and the premiere, and entertain me. But, I didn't get out very much anymore with my career and family obligations, so I wasn't going to skip this opportunity.

I hadn't told Angela about meeting Edward Cullen. It was too embarrassing. I felt like a complete ass for my role, consciously or not, in misleading him, which I still couldn't believe. Edward had been interested in _me_. I just wanted to keep that to myself for a while… like a shiny, new toy.

Luckily, I got a parking spot just down from the door at Spaceland since I arrived right as the doors were opening. The club was fairly unimpressive from the outside. It looked vaguely Bavarian with timbers in relief on the side of the building. The only other decoration was a flat, marquee style sign with plastic black letters announcing the bands on the bill. From in my car, I'd seen a few people go inside, so I figured I wouldn't be alone in an empty club.

I killed time waiting for the bands to start by taking in the ambiance. I'd seen shows at Spaceland on previous visits and was happy to see that the stage was still only about a foot or two off the floor and the trademark blue and white stripped lamé curtains still surrounded the stage. The club slowly filled with a hipster garage punk crowd in their leather jackets, obscure band t-shirts, tight jeans, and ratty footwear; my usual non-work uniform. This crowd was mixed with a few nerdy music critic types. These nerd types were always a sign that the band was pretty good and you should be happy you were seeing them at a small club because they were definitely playing somewhere bigger the next time they were in town. But, I tried not to talk to them too much because they often just wanted to chat about their particular opinions in relations to the bands playing – ad nausea. The hipsters were fine, but since this was not my town, and not my scene, they were a bit unfriendly. I was hanging out by myself tonight. I played some pinball so that I could sip my drink without having to make small talk.

The opening band started right about when I lost the last pinball of the last dollar I had in my wallet. The band was okay, but their sound was a bit derivative of the gritty 1970s Detroit sound and mixed in with repetitive garage rock rumbles. The band members were dressed to the nines in their era Stones-esque pinstriped trousers, vests, scarves, and shaggy locks. It was overdone for my taste, although I did like the mirrored Aviators that the singer wore. I was an Aviators kind of girl. Although, I could not fathom how he could wear them and still see inside the dimly lit club.

I sipped a bit more on my rum and Coke while watching the band and spacing out to the sparkling patterns of the stage lights on the lamé curtains behind the band. Eventually, I decided I should go pee before the between band rush for the ladies room. I checked my appearance in the mirror before returning to the floor; artfully messy hair – check, new berry lip gloss – check, tight black leather jacket – check, shit-kicker boots – check; and I was good to go.

When I walked back to spot I had claimed at the back of the floor between the bar and stage, I found a drunk couple holding each other up by the lips. I didn't think it was late enough yet for that much PDA, but maybe they had started drinking early. Thinking of them drinking, reminded me I needed to refill my drink, so I headed over to the packed bar.

As I leaned up against it to try and get the bartenders' attention, I felt a light tingle across my shoulders. I turned slowly to find Edward smiling sheepishly at me with a couple of drinks in his hand.

"Peace offering," he pronounced slowly, unsure of my reaction. He ran his hand through his dark locks, pushing them up out of his eyes. I had not expected to see those beautiful eyes, or him, ever again – at least not in person. My heart skipped a beat.

I took one of the drinks and moved away from the crowd around the bar towards the seating area near the back of the club. He followed me silently. I stopped and leaned up against a free spot on the wall for support. Maybe he wasn't mad any more, but I wasn't sure what he wanted either.

"I don't know what to say." That was all I could formulate in my overtaxed brain.

"I do," he said, "I'm sorry." His voice was a soft rumble of earnest contrition. "I made an assumption that was clearly fucking incorrect." He joined me in leaning up against the wall, the side of his head pressed against a photocopied flyer. His full bottom lip pulled down into a puppy dog pout. Much too cute to be mad at… if I had ever been, but I still didn't understand why he was here.

"And you felt guilty so you came to apologize?" I conjectured, needing to understand. "You really didn't have to come find me just to apologize. I'm sure I feel just as badly, or worse, than you do."

"I do feel guilty, intensely so," he replied, "but that is not why I am here." He blew a puff of breath out like he was exhaling a cigarette and ran a hand through his hair again. When he spoke he did not meet my gaze. "I like you… no, I don't mean _like_ like, although…um, you are very fucking pretty… shit." His hand was in his hair again as he breathed heavily. "What I mean to say it that I don't meet people that I feel connected to the way I do with you…at least, not very often…and I wanted to be…friends, I guess." Finally, he lifted his eyes to mine to see how I had reacted to his declaration.

"Just friends?" I asked. I didn't know if I felt relief, joy or disappointment, they were so tightly interwoven. "I can do friends," I replied decisively, grinning madly.

He grinned back at me too and I finally noticed the extreme dishevelment of his appearance. He was wearing the usual plaid shirt over some random t-shirt. The plaid had been mis-buttoned once in the center and was ripped in several places just over the hem causing the edge of it to hang down. He was wearing a pair of low slung, faded black jeans and his tennis shoes (or trainers as he would probably call them) were coming untied.

"So… you're married. Have you been with him long?" Edward wasted no time getting straight to the heart of the matter, but was clearly uncomfortable as he scratched at the days worth of stubble on his chin and rubbed the edge of his hand over his brow.

"I've known him all my life," I replied, trying to explain in a few short words the depth of my love for my husband and maybe the reason why I hadn't picked up on Edward's attraction to me the previous night. I'd never looked too far beyond Jake.

"We were childhood friends and he followed me when I left home for college." Jake had been a couple years younger than me so we hadn't really connected romantically until the summer after my junior year of high school when he had finally turned sixteen. He still had two years of high school to finish when I left my hometown of Forks for college in the other Washington, but we stayed in touch. Jake moved out to DC after he graduated and turned eighteen, to the disapproval of both our fathers. He went to a local community college for his mechanics certification while I finished my bachelor's degree. Angela agreed to let him move in to our house as my fiance while she and I were in grad school and Jake and I got married a year after I finished my Master's.

"Are you happy together?" he asked, his blue eyes intently searching mine.

"Yes. He's like my sunshine. And we have children… two… a boy and a girl," I responded, wanting to confess it all so that he would just _know_. I didn't want to surprise him with anymore misunderstandings.

"Really, you're a mother? You don't look like a mother," he stated.

"Is that a complement?" I asked.

"I'm just fucking surprised… I'm sorry… I didn't mean to be weird… I was just very fucking surprised," he stuttered. He seemed quite off kilter and had dropped his eyes from mine. I didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, so I reached over and gave his hand a slight squeeze.

"Edward, it's fine, it's not like you can tell just by looking." I soothed. He was still withdrawn and I worried that he was about to bolt.

"So the White Lips are pretty crazy live. Are you up for it?" I asked to change the subject. The less we talked about my personal life the better. He didn't really need to know the details that tied me to another man and family across the country. I'd rather spend the night getting to know more about him anyway.

"I downloaded some of their music earlier today," he said.

"And…," I prompted.

"It's pretty good," he replied blandly.

"So not really your thing, huh?" I teased. Somehow I could not have a conversation with him without teasing. I was born to tease Edward Cullen.

"No, umm, they really are good, just not my usual style. I'm keeping an open mind though." His beautiful blue eyes were back to staring meaningfully into mine and I couldn't help but wonder if that statement was about more than the band.

"So, do you live in LA?" he asked.

"No, I'm just visiting a friend for a few days. I'm leaving on Sunday," I replied, eliminating all but the most basic details.

"Oh." His disappointment was obvious. "Have you been enjoying LA? Doing the tourist thing?" He said the last two words in a bit of a smirking sneer. Good thing I wasn't really a tourist, I might have been offended.

"Not really," I sniped back and explained, "I mean, yes, I have been enjoying LA, and no, I haven't really been doing the tourist thing. I've been to LA several times and I'm not really one for traditional site seeing. Actually, I've been pretty lazy, but I did go record shopping today… just like you, but I actually left the house."

"You got me," he grinned. "I have been totally fucking useless today. I had a bad night last night, I'm not gonna lie." He looked at me from under his lashes with a straight face. He was completely fucking with me and I loved it, but I pretended indifference with the shrug of my shoulders.

After a few seconds, when I did not rise to his bait, he tried a different tactic. "Where did you go record shopping? Was it worth the effort to get out of bed?"

"Actually, it was awesome. I went to Rockaway Records, just down the street from here. I found a few good things - a surf Christmas album and an old Bloc Party EP."

"I'm a massive fan of Bloc Party," he enthused and a spark seemed to light behind his eyes as he began describing a particular show of theirs he'd seen a few years before. We effortlessly fell into conversation about music and bands that seamlessly progressed on to our favorite books and authors. We had lots of overlap in both areas, but also some strong opinions against some of each others favorites that we detested. I was frequently conscious of the silly smile I couldn't wipe off my face.

Eventually, I needed to pee again and realized that the White Lips were probably going on in a few minutes. I excused myself and Edward promised to grab us fresh drinks, but when I returned from the bathroom Edward was gone.

I checked up at the bar and did a quick circuit around the room to make sure some skanky LA girls hadn't seized him in their claws. No one had seemed to recognize him while we were talking, but he was so gorgeous that he didn't need fame to attract the whores.

Fortunately, I didn't find him in the clutches of any bimbos, but unfortunately, he didn't seem to be anywhere in the club either. I had to conclude that he'd probably decided to bail once he realized I wasn't some fan girl with a grudge from last night that would fill the blog-o-sphere with spiteful rants about him. It seemed like the only obvious explanation. It was either that or my big black boots scared the hell out of him. It just didn't make sense for Edward Cullen to want to be my friend.

Who was I, but a self-declared matron complete with the 2.5 children (counting the pet cat), 2 cars, a husband, and house in the suburbs? My once burgeoning social life was non-existent; especially since the birth of my children and the advent of my best friend moving across the country. While my job was meaningful and challenging at times, it also involved a very plebian commute and the typical hum-drum office atmosphere at other times. To top it all off, I wasn't especially attractive; plain brown hair and eyes, medium height and figure, pale complexion, and no particular outstanding features to speak of. I would have disappeared if I was Edward too.

I shook off the disappointment and melancholy born of my self-deprecating reflection and walked out onto the floor as the White Lips took the stage. I planted my booted feet in an open stance and throwing my head back, I let the loud opening riffs from the guitars blast my glum thoughts and emotions away. The deeply rhythmic and psychedelic swells of sound lulled me into a musical coma and all thoughts of sapphire blue eyes and their fringe of messy jet locks were willed away.

The lyrics were absolute nonsense and I figured the words probably changed with each performance. I let my body bob and sway in time to the guitar, like being on the waves of the ocean. Lulled and numbed, as an alternative to replaying our conversation over and over in my head.

His voice broke through during the first break in the music. "Bella, I've brought you another drink."

Emerging from my trance, I turned towards the tickle of warm breath in my ear. "Where did you disappear to?" The accusation was blatant in my question; like I had the right to question his whereabouts.

"I went out for a smoke. I thought I would fucking be back before you returned, but I was… um …detained for a bit," he explained with a plea and sidelong glance toward a gaggle of girls at the bar.

So the whores had found him after all. I'd forgotten all about the smoking area outside the back of the club since I wasn't a smoker myself, but I knew that many random bar hook-ups were initiated by the bumming of a cigarette.

"Edward, it's fine if you want to go find yourself some company," I replied, trying to insinuate the obvious without having to say it. I hoped I didn't have to see him with some LA bimbo in tow. That would be the final blow to my bruised self-esteem.

"The only company I'm interested in tonight is yours, silly girl," he chastised; slightly slurring the word yours, his accent a bit thicker when he was drinking. "You look very intimidating like this." He gestured towards me, crossed his arms and set his legs in perfect mimic of my stance. I let him change the topic since the comment about my company blurred the lines of friendship agreed upon earlier.

"Yeah, it keeps the unwanted attention away," I replied, still maintaining a huffy distance in my tone. _I knew he was scared of the boots_.

"Am I unwanted attention?" he teased, ignoring my little hissy fit.

"Never," I replied a bit too candidly, giving in. That got a wide smile in reply and we both turned our attention to the band as their banter gave way to the next song. We stood side-by-side, trading nudges, gestures and brief critiques between songs. I felt the same tingling I'd experienced from his proximity earlier and it continued to hum between us as we stood together.

After a full set, followed by a raucous encore, the show ended and the staff started pushing everyone toward the door. Edward ordered another drink before last call while I just sipped water. I'd been nursing the water since I had finished my drink at the start of the White Lips set, trying to kill the buzz that I couldn't entirely blame on the alcohol.

He guzzled down his drink under the impatient eyes of the staff and I impatiently eyed his lips repeatedly wrapping around the top of the bottle. I found myself very much wanting to replace the bottle with my lips, so I left Edward at the bar and walked out to get some air before I gave into any half-drunken impulses.

The air was cool and helped to snap me out of the daze of lust I'd slipped into during my night with Edward. I really wished I smoked; I could use a cigarette.

"Are you leaving?" Edward asked walking agitatedly out of the bar towards where I was standing on the sidewalk. He'd left the implied _me_ off the end of his question, but I could hear the hurt in his tone.

"No…I just needed to clear my head," I replied truthfully. He didn't respond for several seconds, maybe trying to assess if I was lying, as he ran a hand over the back of his neck and looked up from under his lashes. He gave a nod to show acceptance of my explanation.

"Um…I took a cab here," Edward stated, letting me know he was without transportation. I hadn't been planning on staying out much past the end of the show, but then I hadn't been expecting Edward to show up either. I knew Angela wasn't going to be worried about me either way since I had a key for her house, but I felt a bit hesitant to be driving on some cross town adventure to deliver Edward to some fancy Beverly Hills crash pad. But, then again, I'd be crazy to pass up a chance to spend a few more minutes with him.

"I figured," I replied, following my instinctual urge to be with him. "I can take you to wherever it is you are staying, but I need to sober up a bit more before I go driving all over the streets of LA to do so."

"Okay. What do you want to do? We could take a walk, check out the neighborhood?" Edward made it sound perfectly normal to wander around unknown residential neighborhoods in the middle of the night and I had to stifle a laugh at that suggestion as he stumbled across the small section of sidewalk still separating us and took my arm for balance.

"I don't think you are quite up for that, but luckily my car is right up the sidewalk. Why don't we go grab some coffee and something to eat?" I countered, starting up the sidewalk with Edward in tow. He nodded his assent.

"Nice fucking car," he commented sarcastically as I directed him towards the passenger door and unlocked the car with a sweep of my key-fob filled hand.

"I know," I lamented, "It's very 'mid-life crisis." The rental car was a red Chrysler convertible. I'd asked for an economy car, but the rental location was out when I picked it up so I got a free 'upgrade' to the red convertible. It was such a clichéd Southern California kind of car to be driving that I would have been embarrassed if it was actually my vehicle. "Well, it's either this or you can walk, but I don't think you'd make it very far in your condition," I said as a false threat. There was no way I was letting drunk Edward wander about Silver Lake alone at night. Some LA whore would find him and take advantage of his inebriated ass.

Thankfully, I was just down the road from Angela's house and remembered a diner that was open 24/7. I was sober enough for the mile drive to the diner, but wouldn't want to chance a breathalyzer. I hoped I wasn't making a stupid mistake getting in that car with Edward Cullen.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: My first foray into citrus-y prose. Still unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. Enjoy!  
**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Velvet Underground – After Hours - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/The+Velvet+Underground/_/After+Hours**

**The Rolling Stones – Waiting on a Friend - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/The+Rolling+Stones/_/Waiting+On+A+Friend**

Driving down Silver Lake Boulevard, I watched as the streetlights strobed their wan light over Edward's face. He was spread diagonally across the passenger seat with his head resting on the door jam and eyes closed in repose. I clutched the steering wheel very tightly and drove slowly in order to deliver us safely down the road... at least that's what I told myself. Nope, it wasn't an attempt to stop myself from stroking his jaw, or to add a couple more seconds to the time he would spend utterly serene and beautifully and just in reach.

"Hey, sleepy head," I said and poked gently at him as I parked in front of the diner, "we're here." Here was the Astro Family Restaurant - a late night haven filled with people that would have formerly chain smoked and drank coffee all night – now reduced to just the coffee between visits outside for a few drags. It was a perfect spot for us to hideaway until I was sober enough to chauffeur Edward back to the lap of luxury.

"I'm not sleeping, I was thinking," he answered.

"About what?" Was it me? He didn't answer, but replied with a stretch and a Cheshire grin. I think I read his family had origins in some other 'shrire' in England, like Hampshire… maybe it was a Hampshire grin. He came around the car and motioned for me to follow. We walked in trying to attract as little attention as possible. Although Edward didn't attract paparazzi on his own (I could not understand why!), his connection to Jasper and Maria made him more recognizable, so we found a booth with high sides and ample privacy.

"They have about twenty types of steak here," he said in amusement after a cursory glance at the menu. "I've never even heard of some of these…Grilled Ham Steak, Skirt Steak, Steak Picado."

"Me neither," I confessed, "but then I'm a vegetarian." I'd been one since I moved away to college and out from under my father Charlie's preference for meat and potatoes. Jake and the kids ate meat, but it just wasn't something I liked anymore.

He raised his eyebrows in shock and teased, "How do you survive?"

"Ummm, there's these things called fruits and vegetables…" I taunted back.

"I would fucking die… seriously. I couldn't live without meat," he retorted.

"Well, you can eat what you want," I replied, ending the discussion. "I'm getting potatoes to soak up some of this alcohol." Edward ordered steak, when the waitress came. I think he was trying to fuck with me a bit, although he said not, that he just really wanted a steak after talking about it, although he played it safe and just ordered it broiled.

"I spoke to Jasper about you," Edward confessed, after the waitress had left.

"And?" I knew his answer would be interesting. Edward had been pretty pissed off the night before, but very conciliatory when he approached me at the show. I wonder if his conversation with Jasper had brought about his change of heart.

"He thinks I am a fucking idiot for even thinking about you…ah, I mean, thinking about getting to know you." Well, I guess it wasn't Jasper that had made the difference. "I mean he was very happy I met someone…um, interesting, to…ah…talk to, until I told him about you being married." After that he was completely against this whole…ah, I don't know what to…uh, thing, I guess." He was trying so hard to find the right words to explain our situation, but there were none. I understood, because I had the same difficulty when trying to formulate my thoughts. Friendship for all its letters was not a big enough word to encompass what was between us.

He sat across from me, meeting my gaze, but not pressing me, just waiting patiently for my response. He was so polite, much too well-bred to make me feel uncomfortable with his choice of words or actions. But then I suddenly realized as he unconsciously twisted his fingers together that he was uncomfortable. Maybe he was rethinking Jasper's comments after spending more time with me. I would imagine after many years of close friendship, Jasper's opinion was very important to him. Or maybe he thought I would actually care what Jasper Whitlock, famous actor, thought of us. Either way, I didn't want him to feel my actions or opinions should complicate his life further.

"It's cool if he doesn't like me. I mean he must have thought I led you on. It wasn't my intention to cause any problems between you two," I replied. After all, my friendship wasn't really worth a falling out with his best friend.

"No, he likes you… I mean, he doesn't fucking know you, but he doesn't think poorly of you. It's my actions that are the issue," Edward said, his gaze locked to mine.

"What? That you wanted to apologize to me for the weird, um…end to our conversation last night?" I couldn't really see how his actions would be a cause for debate unless Jasper had tried to tell him that he didn't really need another friend badly enough to track me down. I'm sure he had many, many friends that were a lot more interesting than I am. Maybe it was a 'No New Friends' rule to protect their privacy.

"No, Bella, I told you earlier it's not that at all. But, I have a little confession to make that might help you to understand," he said, eyes downcast. "I hope you won't be angry."

"Okay…do I have to guess what you are going to say?" I said. I couldn't imagine what he might confess. He'd already more than made amends for the previous night. Maybe he'd lied when answering one of my either/or questions and wanted to see if I was still "precognitive."

With a quiet exhale he started, "I didn't quite just bump into you at the premiere last night. I saw you and thought that you were quite beautiful so I decided to stand near you so I could observe you more closely. I hadn't actually planned to fucking speak to you, but you took care of that with your dangerous heels." He made a little half smile to himself at the remembrance. "Please accept my apology. It was terribly wrong for me to objectify you like that." He still hadn't looked right at me, obviously bracing for the worst.

"Edward, you have nothing to apologize for, I'm not offended. I'm actually flattered. And that whole premiere was one big objectification fest anyways. It was contagious. Just be glad you didn't catch the 'Make googly eyes at Jasper Whitlock' bug. That might have been awkward for you two." We both chuckled at my lame joke.

So that was his big confession, that he had wanted to stand near a girl and check her out (little internal squeal since that girl was me), that boy had some serious insecurity issues about the ladies. I grabbed a hand that had briefly stopped running through his hair and was resting on the tabletop, and gave it a little squeeze to let him know that everything was okay.

"So, to clear up the earlier confusion, Jasper thinks that I should have let go of my interest in you once I realized you were unavailable… beyond friendship that is. He said I was being delusional to think this would end in any other way than, at best, my disappointment. Maybe he was correct, but I just can't stay away from you." He finally looked up to make eye contact with me when his confession was concluded, like déjà vu of his reaction earlier at the bar. It was like he was pulling together the courage to face his executioner.

"Well, this is exactly why I haven't said anything about meeting you to my girl friend," I replied, hoping to relieve his fear that I would reject him. "I knew she would chastise me for enjoying my time with you, but I'm not ashamed of liking you."

The waitress delivered our food before Edward could reply and we both sat silently until she asked us if we needed anything else. We ate our meals with exaggerated precision, like one wrong gesture could set off a trigger. Things had been so light and easy with us just a few minutes before and I wondered if Edward was regretting his decision to go against Jasper's advice. I didn't know what to say after my pronouncement. Maybe Edward though I meant I like liked him. Well, I kinda did, but I didn't want him to know and I certainly wasn't free to feel that way anyway.

"Bella, I'm sorry that things are so awkward, but this is all very new for me. I'm more comfortable in life as an observer. I read people very well and I consider myself somewhat of a student of human nature. I'm… constantly watching and trying to fucking understand." His eyes held mine in an unblinking stare, like he was trying to read my mind through them. "And the situation with Jasper has forced me to take on a role very akin to the protective older brother. I'm constantly forced to keep people outside of the very controlled bubble of his fucking world. I've become very vigilant and exclusionary. I can only let down my guard around people I know well… people I knew before all this." He threw his arms out in a grand gesture, as if to indicate the whole of LA, the home-base of the industry and media that controlled the Jasper frenzy.

"Sometimes I feel like I am just watching everyone around me living life and I'm just… I guess…I'm waiting. I just want the thing that I'm supposed to do or the person I'm supposed to meet to happen already so I can get on with living. I didn't expect that it would ever fucking happen. I felt I was meant to be alone, not really alive." He stabbed at a bit of meat and shrugged it into his mouth like shrugging off his last statement. He was such melodramatic, morose drunk, I wondered if this was typical.

"Edward, you know you are being completely absurd," I said, waving my fork in front of his face so he would look at me. "I realize you are living through some very exceptional circumstances, but nothing is forever. Eventually the public interest in Jasper will die down and you'll have a bit more normal life. You'll probably even miss the insanity," I said making light of it, but I still got no acknowledgment from Edward, so I continued. "Plus, there are plenty of women out there dying to meet you. You don't have to be alone. Didn't you get approached by a few tonight?" He obviously didn't have to be alone if he didn't want. So many women would jump at the chance to know him, and not just because he was Jasper's friend, but because he was talented and gorgeous in his own right.

"Bella, all the women who approach me are very fucking superficial. They either want a fling with a celebrity or they are fans that tended to have a look of crazed worship. I really want no part of either and most of them are teenage girls anyway. I just want someone to talk to, to share all of life's little disappointments and unexpected joys, a true friend. That is the type of woman I have been waiting for, that I want to be with." Again, he caught my gaze and held it, searching for something in my eyes.

"I'm sure you could make friends with some great girl very easily. Look how fast we became friends," I replied, appealing to reason.

"You are the only friend I have made in a long fucking time, Bella. I don't think you understand how special that is to me. You are special to me."

My trite reply, _You're special to me too, Edward_, caught in my throat as the meaning of Edward's words finally registered. He had just declared himself to me in so many words. Suddenly, I realized any awkwardness that had been between us was gone, replaced with the earlier hum I now recognized as sexual attraction. I felt warm, light-headed… smothered.

"Let's get out of here," I suggested, hoping some fresh air would help. We left more than enough cash on the table to cover our meals and made a beeline to the car. I just had to keep my head clear enough to get Edward back to his hotel and then I could leave fast, before I made any regrettable mistakes. Edward had basically told me he wanted to be with me; but, I would refuse him however much I wanted to accept anything he had to offer. And in the moment, I wanted it very much.

I put the car in gear and looked over at him for direction. "I'm staying at The Standard, downtown," he said, slouched back into his corner of the passenger seat.

"Thank god, no Beverly Hills," I exclaimed. I hadn't relished the thought of the long drive down Santa Monica Boulevard, trying to keep my hands from roaming all over Edward, as if his admission allowed me free reign on his person.

"It's actually Jasper's room. It was near the cinema holding the premiere, but he's been staying elsewhere with Maria so I just crashed there."

The trip downtown was uneventful (thankfully), and short, especially since the freeways were fairly empty in the early hours of Friday morning. We only spoke when Edward gave me directions. I found parking on the street near one of the doors to the hotel and pulled up to idle at the curb and then I steeled myself for the dreaded, but necessary goodbye.

"Walk inside with me for a moment?" he coaxed. I knew I shouldn't, that it would just be easier to wave goodbye from inside the car, but I wanted to prolong the inevitable end for just a few more minutes. I couldn't say no when he was asking, so I turned off the car, grabbed my purse, and followed him to where he stopped at the smoking area just to the side of the door.

"Do you mind?" he asked me politely. I shook my head no and leaned up against the wall to watch the captivating show of him lighting and pulling drags from a cigarette... a lucky to be resting between two oh-so-kissable lips cigarette... and I suddenly I understood the innuendo in the name behind Lucky brand cigarettes.

"Please come up for a nightcap," he said softly, questioning. "I'm not ready to say goodnight yet."

I was beyond rational reply, enthralled with him after the little show with the lips and the cigarette. His gestures, words, beauty, mind. I merely nodded my ascent.

He threw the hood of his jacket over his head and we moved quickly through the ultra modern lobby, with its clusters of Euro-hipsters lounging on mindblowingly magenta sofas, to a waiting elevator. Once at his floor, I followed silently behind him to a door at the end of a long, empty hallway. His room was oddly familiar; the large white tiled bathroom with a non sequitur, oversized black foot in the middle, modern furnishings and walls of white accented in gray and yellow racing stripes; and the large wall of windows overlooking the LA sprawl. I realized I had been in this very room, or its twin, when Angela and Ben had been married. Angela had the bridal party prepared together in the suite where she and Ben later spent their wedding night. It struck me as an odd coincidence that I was revisiting the location of one of Angela's martial milestones as that same marriage had finally reached its conclusion.

In our hurry to reach the room without notice, Edward and I had not spoken. I felt as if speaking would somehow break the spell between us, like in some unlikely fairytale. But we did have to speak again at sometime, so I mumbled something about the room being nice.

"What would you like to drink?" Edward asked. I remembered that "nightcaps" were our excuse to prolong our goodbye, but I didn't really want to keep drinking.

"Can I just have water?"

"Of course, I was just thinking of the same myself, but I did promise you a drink," he grinned to himself, maybe in acknowledgment of the elaborate charade we were playing. He handed me a high-ball glass filled with bottled water from the minibar. I vaguely wondered if the drink from the in-room bar cost more than those he had bought earlier at the bar.

I wandered over and sat down on the edge of the bed although the room did have a sofa. Edward joined me and we sat next to each other silently drinking our water. I almost couldn't breathe because of the tension between us and I began to feel lightheaded again. I handed my water to Edward and lay back on the bed, hoping to ease the dizziness.

"Are you okay?" he asked, worried. I must have seemed pained.

"I'm fine, just tired," I lied as he got up to set our drinks down on a table. I should have got up when he did and left, but I couldn't move from my spot. He returned to the bed and lay down next to me, but gave me plenty of space. We both toed off our shoes, but left our jackets zipped up tight, and lay next to each other on top of the white hotel comforter; fingers spread, but not touching.

"Thank you," he whispered to me, after another lapse into silence.

"It wasn't a problem," I replied. "I just wanted to get you back safe," I said feeling like a total mother for saying that. I couldn't confess that I didn't know how to say goodbye, didn't want to say goodbye.

"That's not what I meant," he said softly chiding.

I could hear his breathing stop after a few seconds and then settle back into an audible rhythm. Every cell in my body was tuned to him, my eardrums vibrating to his breath, fingers tingling just beyond his touch, eyes squeezed tight against his apparition, waiting for the next whispered word.

"I meant for accepting my peace offering," he said with a rough whisper. I felt the slightest of sensation tickle on my scalp and trickle down my neck and spine as one of he traced the curl from a lock of my hair that had settled on the bed in the space between us. It was an innocent touch, but it had roused me. My fingers itched to feel his tousled hair in turn.

I opened my eyes and found he'd turned himself up on one elbow to survey his tracery. As I wanted, I reached up and gingerly brushed a strand of jetty hair back from his eyes, just brushing past the tip of his ear.

"You have no idea how fucking good that feels," he leaned down to whisper in my ear. The warm breath sent heat to every extremity of my body that rebounded back like a wave to my center. My abdomen involuntarily contracted and fought my heart for high score in a contest of palpitations.

"I like making you feel good," I replied, as though under a truth spell.

"I wish I could kiss your lips," his warm breath met my ear again, voicing his desire.

"I wish I could touch you…" I trailed off, but then continued, wanting to convey the details of my fantasy as he had, "Touch your chest… underneath your shirt." The words tumbled from my mouth, an outpouring of my unstoppered desire as Edward's breath panted heavily against my ear. I wanted to look over to see the heaving of his chest, but I was too afraid of what might be set in motion if I moved.

"If I could, I would bare your collarbones and follow each of them with my tongue to bite the soft spots at the base of your neck. I've been dreaming of doing it since I saw you in that dress last night." His confession made the heat building in my body flare and I stretched so the shoulders and neck he wanted to caress were slightly raised into the air toward him.

"I want your shirt off so I can trace every muscle, kiss every centimeter of skin, umm… taste your nipples…" A soft whimper from him was the only response for several seconds. I didn't hear or feel his breath against my ear; he must have been holding it and trying to control himself.

"It's only fair that you would be topless too, so I could touch your breasts and tease your nipples until they were hard. I want to suck them until you fucking beg me for more." His last vow was almost lost as a new flare of desire overtook me and I groaned aloud. I was already on the verge of begging him to have me. I had almost forgotten why it was forbidden, even if some distant corner of my brain still knew.

In a last ditch effort to stop this insanity between us, I warned, "I would have to push you away from me." I moved back and rolled up onto an elbow to face him, to see if he had acknowledged the truth of my words. I wanted to watch as he replied in his urbane British accent. He could say anything in response and it knew would be sexy.

He rebelled against my attempt to cool us down, escalating his banter, "I couldn't let you. I would pull you back to me… remove all the barriers between us." He stared straight into my eyes and said, "I want you naked and in my arms."

My defenses were utterly destroyed as he gave voice to my own deep desire. I so wanted to press my naked body to his. The fingertips of my left hand gently nudged his face back up into my line of sight with light pressure to his cheek. Those same fingertips traced a feather light trail over the curve of his lips as they parted. I willed him to speak so I could see the words on his lips again, but he did not. And then those lips were on mine.

His kisses were, not gentle, bruising with passion. He sucked and nipped at my lips as they became swollen and throbbing. His taste; just a trace of tobacco, tea, and something else I could not define, but I definitely wanted more of, made me tentatively run my tongue past his upper lip. The softest whimpered moan came from Edward as he swirled his tongue against mine; deepening the exchange.

In an attempt to illicit another one of his sexy moans, I ran my hands up under his shirt, initiating something beyond our not so innocent kisses. We were soon pulling at each others' shirts, frantic in our anticipation as we performed every activity as we had said we would. Except for when it came time for me to push him away, I pulled down his jeans to hasten the joining of our naked flesh. I could not stop this exchange anymore then I had been able to take any one of the numerous opportunities to part from his company before reaching this crescendo.

He didn't let me touch him with my hands, whispering that this was about giving me pleasure, but I used my legs and hips to tease him to the edge of his control. When the moment that neither of us could have denied each other came, I could only beg him, yes, please.

Ironically, that was the first moment of the night that I thought about Jake; my thrall to Edward had been so consuming. The thought of my husband was finally evoked by the contrast between the way Edward filled me against my experiences with Jake. With Jake, I often gritted my teeth as he plowed his full length in and against my cervix like a conquering barbarian; proud of his length, like each inch added to his manliness. In comparison, Edward moved slowly, stretching me deliciously wider than I was accustomed and never giving me anything other than pleasure. But more than carnal fulfillment, the greatest pleasure of the night was falling asleep with Edward curled around me, whispering words of praise, gratitude and adoration.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: …in which our protagonists hit the first bump in the road. **

**So many of the songs on the playlist are very reflective of Edward's POV, which I will not be including, but can be somewhat inferred through the song lyrics. **

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Velvet Underground – Pale Blue Eyes - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/** **www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/The+Velvet+Underground/_/Pale+Blue+Eyes**

**Elkland – I Need You Tonight - www[dot]last[dot]fm/music/Elkland/_/I+Need+You+Tonight**

A beam of bright light from the narrow split in the opaque hotel curtains awoke me as it progressed across the room to the space my face occupied on the pillow. Blinking, I turned my head out of its path and found Edward still asleep next to me. Long, dark eyelashes rested against his cheek and a slight smile pulled up the corners of his lips. The minimal light lit the edges of his cheekbones, brows and each pin of his stubble, creating a stark, but beautiful film noir portrait. It all felt unreal, like I'd dreamt myself into a dark drama and I was still not awake. Unable to gasp reality, I shut my eyes and drifted back to sleep.

When I awoke later, the sun had moved over to Edward's pillow and his fan of lashes had opened to frame the stunning blue eyes I was beginning to learn. I stared into them, imprinting the pattern created by flecks of dark gray and bluish white over a field of true blue. A wide, joyful smile lit his face when he found my gaze.

"Good morning," he rumbled in his still sleep blurry voice.

"Is it still morning?" I asked, disoriented and suddenly aware that I wasn't where I should be.

"Ah, I think so," he said. He twirled a piece of my wild, loose hair around a finger, made a loop and then stroked my exposed collar bone with the curve of the strand.

I only woke up about two minutes before you did and I found myself a bit too preoccupied to care about the time." The soft caress caused a feline urge to stretch into his touch, but I repressed it. He released the strand and repeated the caress with his knuckles, punctuating it with a brush of his lips against my shoulder. Heat started building in my abdomen and below, betraying how well attuned my body had become to his after just one night.

I knew I wanted what he was so tentatively offering, but I also knew that I couldn't make any excuses if I let it happen. Last night we had been drunk, not thinking clearly, elated at our new found connection, under its spell. I could explain away my spontaneous misdeeds or at least try. I could be forgiven if it was only once. But, if I gave in again, especially knowingly, it was more than twice the sin. It would be premeditated and unforgivable. I brushed his hand from its' mid-caress path and pulled the fluffy white hotel comforter up to my chin.

"Are you shy now?" he teased, his hands moving to stroke my side under the covers.

"Edward, you have to stop. _This_ has to stop." His eyes met mine, full of questions, seeking confirmation that I truly was denying him. When I met his gaze fully, challenging, he sighed and rolled away, removing his hands from my body.

"So this is it?" he asked, still disbelieving.

"What else can there be? I'm still just as married as I was yesterday. What did you think would happen?" I didn't mean to sound accusatory, although I did. But I didn't blame Edward. It was _me_ I blamed. What did _I_ think would happen?

"I didn't think," he replied with surprising candor, "I just felt. It felt good... very good, and I want more. I don't want to think, just be."

His eyes were bright with fervor or maybe unshed tears. "Just be with me," he pleaded.

"I just can't, Edward. I can't." It tore me up to say it, but I knew this pain would be so much less with a clean break now. I pressed my eyes into their sockets with my fingertips, in part to stem the headache that was lingering in the back of my head and in part to stem the tears welling in response to Edward.

"I'm going to use the bathroom to clean-up and then I think I should go."

Edward just nodded, not meeting my gaze. I scrambled out of bed, still naked, and reached for a pile of my clothes from the floor near the foot of the bed. Edward had the edge of the comforter over his face, either trying to give me some privacy or hiding any tears that might have escaped. I scurried to the bathroom so that we could each have some time to collect ourselves.

One whole wall of the bathroom was covered with a mirror so I couldn't avoid looking at the incredible wreck I was. My hair was teased up into a gravity defying poof and my eye make-up was smeared down one side of my nose and tops of my cheeks. I breathed into my cupped palm and gagged at the flavor of my morning breath - French fries meets stale alcohol. I couldn't escape it by simple closing my mouth as it seemed to be also emanating from my pores. I desperately wanted a shower, but I didn't think it was wise to spend much more time at the hotel or tempt Edward with my wet and naked body just across a small room. I cleaned-up as best as I could with a wash cloth and put my clothes from the night before back on. Thankfully, it was jeans and a t-shirt, no worse for wear after a night piled on the floor. My hair was hopeless, but I probably had a binder for a messy bun somewhere in my purse.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Edward was dressed and sitting on the couch. He turned as I walked back towards the couch and coffee table where my purse had been left last night.

"I checked the time while you were in the bathroom. It's one o'clock." He paused after the statement and I wasn't sure what to say. I heard him breathe once in the unnatural quiet and then he squared his shoulders.

"I have this lunch thing at two with Jasper and I don't want to be made late waiting for a car. Would you mind driving me?" His little speech sounded rehearsed and he hadn't looked me directly in the eyes. He'd thought I was rejecting him.

Well, I was, but not like he probably imagined. I almost fell as the guilt hit me. I'd caused him pain.

"I'm so sorry, Edward," I said, gingerly sitting on the couch next to him before I hit the floor. "I didn't want…" I trailed off, unable to adequately explain. I felt so confused myself that I doubted I could vocalize the range and depth of my sorrow, guilt, remorse, pain, unease, and countless other emotions. I just need time alone to reflect on the events of the past 18 hours. But I at the very least owed him a one last favor.

"Of course, I can drive you wherever you need to go."

I grabbed my purse and he put his essentials in his jean pockets and we headed to the elevator. The hotel lobby was basically deserted, being the middle of a weekday afternoon, but Edward walked out a little behind me so it wouldn't necessarily appear we were together. I considered jogging to the car, but thought that might attract more attention, so I just walked very quickly.

When I got to the car, I found a parking ticket on the windshield. Of course, we had parked on the street and I hadn't even though of paying a meter while half drunk in the middle of the night. I found I didn't really care since the car really could have been towed and then I would have been stuck at the hotel trying to find my rental car in the Los Angeles municipal impound, while Edward went to his lunch. I actually kissed the parking ticket because I was so glad the car was still parked where I had left it in my Edward-induced lust fog the night before.

"I'm quite jealous of that piece of paper, although I can't fathom why you'd be happy about getting a ticket," Edward said as he joined me near the car. I explained that we were lucky the car was still where we had left it since the meter had not been paid for several hours.

"Let me pay the ticket," he requested, trying to stealthily remove it from my grasp. "I am the reason you were forced to leave the car here. I know I was a bit insistent last night," he confessed, bring us back to a topic I definitely did not want to revisit.

"It's fine Edward," I claimed. "Let's just get going. We don't want to keep Jasper waiting, do we?" My voice was curt and did not invite a reply. He climbed into the passenger seat as I rounded the car and got in. We were mostly silent as I drove across town, only an occasional line of directions read by Edward to me from his phone. I'd stopped him the few times he tried to start a conversation, but thankfully, he was kept distracted by incessant text messaging, his phone chiming a new arrival almost once a minute. He had murmured something about Jasper checking on his whereabouts, no doubt to be polite as he filled his best friend in on all that had happened since yesterday. It was sweet how they supported and protected each other.

When we reached the hotel in Hollywood where Edward was meeting Jasper, he directed me to pull up to the curb near the front entrance. He looked around for hidden paparazzi, but seemed satisfied that they hadn't been clued onto this location yet. He sent a quick text message to let Jasper know he was outside and turned to me to say goodbye.

"Bella, I don't want this to be goodbye." His eyes were agonized as he stared straight into mine. I didn't want to say goodbye either, but I had no other alternative. My stomach sunk as I steeled my backbone.

"I hate that this has to happen and I hate that I'm in any way responsible for one second of your unhappiness. I feel terrible, but _this_ is not going to happen Edward. Last night was a huge mistake." I had to stop and breathe or else I would cry. I couldn't cry, Edward needed to see I was resolved.

"I am terribly sorry," I told him, not knowing what I actually regretted, if anything at all… maybe just the fact that he would be unhappy because of me. I felt as though I needed some sort absolution. "Please, forgive me." I hung my head and wished that I hadn't pulled it up into a bun so my hair would cover my agonized expression. Instead, I used my hands to curtain off my tear-filled eyes from the pained expression on his face.

"Please, Bella," he pleaded. "I …" I blindly flung out my hand, palm pushing lightly against his chest, keeping him from closing the gap between us. It temporarily stopped his words, but the effect of my palm on his chest was the opposite of what I had intended. An electrical awareness of that unintended contact raced up my arm. I could feel my pitiful resolve crumbling.

I imagined digging in my fingers, wrapping his shirt in my fist and pulling him to me. I wanted to feel his hard kiss and firm body just once more.

A loud knock against the passenger window saved me from myself. I turned my head slightly to see Jasper's unmistakable torso and graceful hand motions beckoning Edward from the car. Edward took my hand that rested against his chest into his own hands and I felt the softest brush of his lips across a knuckle. I thought I heard a low sob as he left the car, but couldn't be sure with the noise of the car door slamming on me.

As I peered after him, I saw Edward sag against Jasper, who had offered a supporting arm around his shoulders. Just as I was about to look away, Jasper glanced back over and sent a malevolent glare my way. Angela would be _so proud_ I'd managed to earn Jasper Whitlock's hatred before I'd ever even met him.

I drove straight back to Angela's house through a haze of tears, willing myself to hold back the worst until I reached the privacy of her house. Ang and Benji weren't expected back until this evening, so I had a whole house to fill with my lamentations.

After I had spent all the tears I could cry, I found myself sitting at Angela's kitchen table with my fingers pressed tightly against my swollen eyes. The bright sun of another typically gorgeous LA day streamed in through a large deck door, irritating my eyes when ever I tried to open them and stop the images behind the eyelids. The only thought in my head was Edward – from our first apologies when we not so accidentally stumbled into each other to the feel of his lips on my hand just hours ago.

I needed to stop thinking about him. I needed to get on with the rest of my life from this moment forward. A post-Edward life in which I did _not_ think about him, did _not_ daydream about him, and definitely did _not_ cry over him.

In my attempt to start this new course, I decided I should just head out to go record shopping in LA as I had originally planned. I was proud that I only hesitated for a second before climbing into the shower to wash the residues of the night before - including the last physical traces of Edward- off my body. The smell of cigarette smoke, sweat and the essence of Edward permeated the steam and filled my nostrils one last time; triggering one last cry until the water washed away the dead cells, evocative smells and every last tear that fell.

Soon, I was in the ridiculous rental car and back across town to Hollywood to visit a mecca for music fans - Amoeba Records. If it just happened to be somewhat close to the hotel where I had left Edward in Hollywood, I could not be blamed for driving some of the same route I'd travelled earlier. But, I didn't let myself drive by the hotel, or indulge in the minuscule hope that I might catch a glimpse of Edward. Besides, he probably wasn't even still there.

Record shopping took my mind off of Edward a little bit, and by that I mean I thought about him only once a minute instead of once every ten seconds. Every other album I browsed through made me wonder, _What Edward would think of this band?_ I found a couple items on my ongoing wish list and one item I knew Jake would die for though it was much more than I would normally spend. I bought it in contrition, although I hoped Jake would never know the sin I had committed. I knew it would in no way make up for my betrayal of our wedding vows, but I felt resolved to some how compensate Jake even though a million small acts could never right my wrong.

With a heavy heart, I returned from my excursion to Angela's near the time I expected her to return from work. Her car was in the driveway when I arrived and I braced myself for the inquisition I knew was coming.

"Bella, I have never been so glad to see someone in one piece as I am right now," Angela declared, worry evident in her tone. She hugged me tight, as I entered the kitchen where she was preparing dinner.

"Why didn't you call or text?" she scolded. Of course Angela got right to the heart of the matter. I still didn't know what I would say, but I owed her an explanation.

"Let me take over the chopping," I offered, hoping to get a sharp knife out of Angela's hands before I told her about last night. I trusted as my oldest friend she would keep my secret, but I didn't expect her to like it. Angela handed me the knife and looked at me with expectant eyes.

"Uhmm, where's Benji?" I asked, stalling. Plus, I didn't want to start this conversation, probably filled with swearing, with him nearby.

"I dropped him off with my Mom for an overnighter. I thought I would pick him up after our excursion tomorrow. I want to spend some more girl time with you while you are here _and_ you still owe me an explanation for last night's disappearance." Angela could be a bulldog when she wanted me to 'fess up to a misdeed. "So…," she prompted.

"So I have something to tell you about the night of the première," I started. I filled Angela in on my whole conservation with Edward (she was annoyed I hadn't told her right away, especially if he could have gotten her more "face time" with Jasper), his appearance at the show (flattering), and lastly, the basic details of what had transpired in his hotel room. Of course, after that, the shit hit the fan like I knew it would.

"Bella, I can't fucking believe you would cheat on Jake," Angela exploded at me. "He moved across the country for you." She punctuated this statement with a finger point stabbing at my sternum. "You have a perfect fucking life." The untrue, but emotionally telling statement hung between us as Angela gathered herself for another tirade..

"I mean I get the appeal of Edward Cullen, but I really can't believe you. Have you cheated on Jake before? Are you leaving him?" Angela was concerned and mad, rightly so. Jake was her friend too.

"No Angela, it wasn't like that. I didn't think about it. I didn't plan it. It just sort of happened. I'd been drinking… I know that is no excuse…"

"You have _everything_, I just don't understand," Angela interrupted my pathetic attempt to explain myself. "I mean Jake is hot, women throw themselves at him, and he is utterly devoted to you and your family. You two are like the shining example of the perfect relationship. I mean, one of the reasons I finally decided to end it with Ben is that I felt like I deserved what you two have. And now you go and fuck it up, and for what, a one night fling with some Hollywood pretty boy who probably won't even remember your name tomorrow. I know this isn't all about me, but my hope for a better relationship in the future is seriously dashed if I can't believe that one does exist." Angela leveled a glare at me that I had only seen a couple times when we'd fought over who gotten to use the devastatingly cute vintage clutch we both chipped in to buy at an over priced boutique.

"You are right Ang, I totally fucked up, but I mean to make it right. I've cut off all contact with Edward. He doesn't even know my last name or where to find me. I'm not going to tell Jake. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to him, even if he never knows." I quickly laid out my basic thoughts for Angela, trying to communicate that I knew I was in the wrong and that it was just an isolated event.

"So I'm supposed to keep this a secret from Jake," she asked, disapproval evident in her tone.

"Please," I begged. "You are right. I could have thrown away everything. I don't want to hurt Jake (in addition to Edward I added silently to myself) and tear our marriage apart. Please think of the kids, they need us together as a family." I didn't want to bring them into this, but I knew that Angela's instincts as a mother would probably override her loyalty to Jake.

"Did you ever consider your kids last night?" Angela challenged.

"Like I said, I wasn't thinking. I don't think I should lose my kids over one stupid mistake. You know I would never intentionally do anything to hurt either of them." I hoped my sincere words would sway Angela.

"Okay, Bella, I won't say anything, but I am so pissed at you right now. I'm going to go spend the night at my mother's house. I can't be around you. I'm not asking you to leave early because that will probably look odd to Jake, but I don't want to see you right now."

I hung my head in shame and told Angela I understood. She didn't want to hear any of my apologies as she packed up an overnight bag and left. I put away the beginnings of our dinner and went to lie on my bed in the guest room. I was definitely not hungry anymore. I called Jake and the kids before it got to be too late and then just lay back staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of how fucked up my life was at the moment.

I must have drifted off to sleep after the stress of the day, because I suddenly awoke to the blare of the rock 'n' roll ring tone on my phone. I rolled over and squinted at the display. It could be Jake calling with an emergency, but it wasn't his or another DC area phone number. However, just because I didn't recognize the number, it didn't mean someone didn't have an out of state cell phone they were using to call me about a car accident or some other disaster that may have befallen my family. Mothers always answer the phone in the middle of the night, and I am no exception.

"Hello, this is Bella," I said tentatively into the phone, suddenly wide awake from the adrenaline rush.

"Bella, Thank God," the familiar deep British accent slurred at me.

"Edward? How did you get my number?" I asked, surprised to hear his voice.

"I texted myself from your phone while you were in the bathroom this morning," he confessed. "I tried to tell myself not to call you…" His explanation trailed off and I just hear him breathing into the phone.

"Edward, it is the middle of the night. You woke me up. What do you want?" I wasn't really annoyed, I was actually elated to hear his voice, but I had to keep him at arms length for my self preservation.

"Come meet me. I'm at the Astro," he said with a yearning whisper.

"I don't think that is a good idea."

"Then, I'll just have to implement the _alternate plan_."

"What is the _alternate plan_?" I asked, suddenly concerned.

"Walking round Silver Lake looking for your car and yelling your name at the top of my lungs once I find it, maybe _before_ I find it if I get impatient. And I'm feeling very impatient to see you. I need to speak with you… explain myself."

"That's very Brando of you Edward, but please do not implement it, okay? I don't think the locals would take kindly to a stranger walking around, yelling in the middle of the night. I'll come meet you." I didn't want him wondering all over Silver Lake and god forbid actually stumbling up Angela's street yelling my name. Angela's neighbors would not be amused.

"Thank you Bella," Edward breathed in relief. "I didn't want to get arrested tonight for making a public disturbance, but I'm desperate."

"Just don't do anything crazy, alright? Be patient and I'll see you in a few minutes." He hung up after reassuring me he would stay put in the booth at the Astro. I threw on some clothes I had put out for the next day, a brown hooded shirt, a denim jacket, skinny blue jeans and a pair of black Chucks. After splashing my face with water and running a brush through my hair, I jumped in the car and flew down the deserted streets to the Astro.

Edward was slumped down in the same booth we had sat in the night before, nursing a cup of tea. He had on a black and white trucker hat I recognized from photos, pushing his shaggy locks down into his eyes. He smiled widely as he caught sight of me.

"Bella, you came," he softly exclaimed, as if he hadn't thought I would keep my promise. "I'm pretty rat-arsed right now," he needlessly explained, slurring on "I thought I might have imagined our conversation."

"No, it's me, in the flesh, Stranger" I reassured him. "So what do you want to tell me?" Of course, the waitress inconveniently approached us right then for my order. I decided on a chai tea to wake me up more fully for the coming discussion and we lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Eventually, Edward seemed to work up his nerve, and started an explanation. "You know I've always had a bit of a _thing_ for rock and roll girls… not that _you_ are a girl… I meant to say women, I've had a thing for women."

"That's what you got me out of bed in the middle of the night for, to confess that you have a thing for women and/or rock and roll girls?" Maybe, if I'd found a flyer for a book reading at the local bookstore instead of the band, this wouldn't have ever happened. Although, maybe Edward had a thing for bookish girls too.

"No, no, that's not what I'm getting at… I'm doing a shit job at this," he lamented. He leaned forward, placing both elbows on the table and ran both hands through his hair, knocking his hat on to the seat next to him. He fumbled around to retrieve the hat, but did not put it back on his head. "I'm usually much better with words, but I'm finding it difficult to know where to start."

"Bella, I feel like I can't believe that I finally met you. It seemed like impossibility that I would ever meet anyone given the circumstance of my life right now and then to find someone who I had a connection with… I just felt like stars aligned or I finally made it to the top of a mountain, or some such trite sentiment. But please know, my feelings for you are anything but trite. They are new and complex and unexpected and just _everything_ to me right now." Somewhere during his speech, he'd reached across the table to grab my hand and finished his sentiment with a stroke of his thumb across the back of my hand, reminding me of the caress of his lips to that same spot earlier in the day.

"I've been in love before, but I've never felt this full. Maybe it's the situation, but I find that I am happy, sad and mad about you… about falling for someone that I can never have. About getting a taste of what might be and having it taken back. It's like having the last sip of the last bottle of a particularly good wine and knowing you will never get to taste it again." He gave me a slight, grimacing smile, a fitting expression for the conflicting emotions.

"I've had relationships before, with women I loved, but I've never been able to sustain them. I desperately wanted the relationships to succeed, but something always tore us apart… problems of geography, different paths…I just could never hold on to any of them. With you I feel like you are being torn away before I've even had a chance…I just want a chance to know you, to make sense of why things feel so vital between us." The blue gaze he turned to me was more intense than the impact of his words. My stomach throbbed and my heart wrenched in response, a visceral cartwheel. I restrained myself from flying around the table to his side.

"Maybe I was too eager to know you, and I pushed you into things… and er, activities, you didn't want. But I don't regret it." His chin rose up a bit in a defiant gesture. "I feel that our connection just shows how the impossible can become possible if two people find themselves in the right situation. But, I realize how very wrong it was to put you into that situation. I should have had more respect for your pre-existing, ah… wedded state. I know what we did was a terrible sin.

I understand why you reacted as you did this morning." He looked up into my eyes, maybe hoping to see my understanding, forgiveness.

"Edward, you don't…" He held a finger up to his pursed lips, halting my refusal of his unnecessary contrition.

"Please let me continue while I have the courage, even if it is just liquid courage" he asked, gesturing to his tea. I nodded in acquiesce.

"When you asked me to leave the diner last night, I guess I took it as an invitation. I now realize that you were probably just trying to put an end to the night and the morally dangerous ground we were treading. I'm not proud I had so little regard for the compromise we had made just hours previous. I have to admit I really did not even attempt to focus on a friendship between us." He paused and let out a loud puff.

"Is that the end of the confession, Stranger?" He shook his head no.

"Just one more thing. I might also have taken advantage of the fact that you had been drinking." He looked at he with hooded, amused eyes. The half smile was just forming on his lips. "Although, in my defense, I had much more to drink than you." He smiled a wry grin and declared, "I think that's all I have to confess."

I thought over what he had said and decided he was still quite deluded to harbor any feelings for me, especially after my actions this morning. He must have spent all day turning this around in his head and he still wanted to discuss the crazy situation, not just walk clean away.

But he was amazingly insightful and mostly correct, although I had definitely not been completely innocent. I had acted knowingly. Yes, I had been drinking, but I wasn't that inebriated by the time we'd gotten to the hotel. He looked expectantly at me, awaiting my reaction.

"Edward, I am completely responsible for my own actions. Yes, I didn't mean that leaving the diner with you to be an invitation, but I also had many opportunities to part company with you along the way. If I remember correctly, I believe I urged you on as much as you pushed me."

Edward seemed a bit surprised with my reaction, his eyebrows quirking. Maybe he just expected me to let him take the blame, and a dose of my righteous anger too. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment, but I knew a little bit about being the martyr too, and I wasn't about to let him have full blame.

"So where does that leave us?" he asked, surprisingly sober now. "If you still want nothing to do with me because of my role in the whole affair… I understand." He put a finger up to his lips to silence my silent protests as I shook my head no. That just sounded too self-flagellating, but he wouldn't be easily dissuaded. "If we could just go back to this time last night when we were here at the diner, simply friends," he mused sadly.

"I wouldn't want to go back," I confessed. "I feel just as drawn to you, although I know I have no right to be. But the heart wants…" I couldn't finish the sentiment, it would be a little too close to admitting I cared for him and I was still so unsure of my feelings. "Since we can't change the past, let's work on the future. The reality is that we can't be more than friends. We _can't_ repeat what happened last night." I squeezed the hand that still held mine.

"Edward, I'm still confused like you. All my past relationships, even friendships, have always been easy for me. I've never felt this turmoil. I always knew where I stood. But, I spent the day miserable, thinking that I'd left things between us in such as horrible mess. I hope you can forgive me, Stranger." I gave a sad smile that reflected the one he gave earlier and suddenly we were back in harmony. An ambiguous truce, but still, reconciliation for us.

"C'mon, let me drive you back to your place. I imagine you must be exhausted," I said, projecting my own need for recovery from the emotional rollercoaster of the past day.

"I'm sorry. Are you sure you are fine with driving me. I can call a taxi," he lightly protested. I just arched an eyebrow at him in response, done with apologies, done with all words for tonight.

Our drive was silent after Edward had affirmed that he was still at The Standard. He looked at me nervously as we neared the hotel.

"Bella, please don't take this wrong, but would you be willing to spend the night with me? Of course I promise that I won't misbehave. I can sleep on the couch. I just…after today…I just can't willingly let you go." His voice cracked on the last word and he turned his head away from me, overcome. He was obviously still shaken from the painful goodbye this morning.

After my concern for his state of mind, my first reaction was to refuse his offer. But then, I thought about returning to Angela's empty house, a symbol of her anger and disappointment that she wouldn't be back while I was there, and I knew I would stay. I also knew in my heart that Edward would keep his promise to behave and imagined he would be hyper vigilant about it in order to gain my trust back.

When we reached the room, I only shed the most bulky of my outer layer, down to my shirt and jeans, before I crawled into the downy bed covers. Edward had likewise shed his plaid flannel and lay down, uncovered, on the couch. He was so determined to be the gentleman, but I could not stand to be a source of discomfort for him anymore today.

"Stranger, come to bed," I entreated, "there is ample room for both of us." I thought he would refuse, or chose the furthest spot away from me on the bed, but he surprised me by pulling me in a close, yet platonic, embrace.

"As long as you can abide me, I will be wherever you want me," he murmured into my hair as we fell into sleep together.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - 5,555 words

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: Sorry for the delay in updating. RL has been an epic saga lately- ticks, emergency rooms, viruses, visiting family, and birthday parties. So I took today off work to recover, sleep, start my taxes, and update. Guess which one I haven't started yet…**

**This chapter, well let's just say if I could live this day I would…without the cheating on the spouse part.**

**The reference in the dialog to a French motorcycle film pertains to Girl on a Motorcycle. IMDB Plot Summary: A married woman (Marianne Faithful) leaves her husband and zooms off on her motorcycle to see her lover.**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Bloc Party – I Still Remember**

**Johnny Flynn – Brown Trout Blues**

**The Rolling Stones – Beast Of Burden**

**The Stooges – Gimme Danger**

**Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page. **

**Enjoy!**

I woke up in same cloud of fluffy white down as the previous morning, but this time Edward was nowhere to be found. I got up, used the facilities and put my jacket and shoes back on. I was just about to bail, figuring he had sobered up and finally realized (to his extreme mortification) the folly of his interest in me, when the door opened to reveal Edward with two steaming cups and a paper bag.

"I got us breakfast," he explained, setting everything down on the coffee table. "I even remembered to get yours without meat," he announced with pride and only a slight smirk. I recognized the logo on the bag and realized Edward had visited a bakery down the street from hotel that specialized in breakfast sandwiches; similar to an Egg McMuffin, but with much, much better ingredients.

Suddenly his eyes widened and he jerked to a stop in mid motion. "Were you leaving?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

"I thought maybe you had…" I trailed off, feeling awkward. It seemed every time I made an assumption about him it was wrong. I leaned toward him and grabbed one of the hot cups from the table. The sweet, spicy smell of the chai tea, like I had ordered last night, wafted up. After a warming sample of the tea, I rooted around in the bag and found the veggie sandwich. My heart melted a little bit in response to Edward's catering to my preferences.

"Didn't you get any fruit, Stranger?" I asked, peering into the bag and trying to recall if I'd shown a preference for it in his presence. I felt like a nitpicking spouse, but as a proponent of healthy food for children and a vegetarian, I liked to start the day with fruit.

"Ahhh, I didn't think about it. I don't really eat fruit," he confessed.

"At all?" I asked in clarification.

"No, not at all," he replied.

"How do you survive?" I joked, recalling his reaction from the other night.

"I take Vitamin C and drink tomato juice," he replied defensively. He pronounced vitamin and tomato with the short vowel sounds – to-MAH-to – sounding extremely British.

"Tomato juice – yuck!" I pronounced it to-MAY-to in the American way. "Anyway you say it, it is gross… although I do like tomato sauce and salsa."

"You are sure weird about vegetables for a vegetarian," he said.

"I know, I'm weird," I agreed. "I'll just grab an apple or something from the lobby on the way out."

"You're still leaving?" he asked, sounding surprised. After all, he had basically brought me breakfast in bed.

"Well, I kinda had plans today, although they were supposed to be with Angela. I was planning on heading down towards San Diego to go record shopping again. Some of Ja…I mean my favorite bands are from San Diego and it's easier to find their stuff in the local shops." I hoped Edward didn't notice my slip. One of the reasons Jake had relented about me going on this trip was a promise to return home with vinyl from some of his favorite bands, many of whom hailed from San Diego. I didn't really need to discuss the maintenance of my marital harmony with Edward though.

"Can I go?" he asked.

"I'm sure you have some important celebrity business to attend to?" I retorted, keeping my sarcasm toned down.

"Bella, since I am neither a celebrity, nor terribly important, the answer is 'No, I don't'… and I don't have any occasionally employed actor business either, so can I go?"

I was very indecisive. Of course I wanted to spend more time with him, but each minute with him was just another minute I need to eventually forget when I returned to the real world.

"I really, really love record shopping," he pleaded. He was so self-depreciating, and with the combination of his sexy begging and puppy dog eyes, I couldn't refuse.

I grabbed my purse and realized I would be wearing my clothes from the night before since I hadn't brought a change with me. Edward put on the remainder of his clothes from the day before too, he said in solidarity with me, but I had my suspicions that he would have put that red plaid shirt on again anyway. With a few minutes we were in the mid-life crisis mobile headed down the 5 freeway to San Diego. I'd insisted on playing one of the playlists from my phone since it was a mix I'd created for road trips and I was sure I didn't want to mellow out to the folkie music Edward preferred.

It seemed that every slow driver was out for a weekend drive and I quickly lost my patience with my fellow drivers. As I flew by the fourth car of idiots who had nearly clipped my front bumper in an attempt to change lanes, with my horn wailing, curses flying and a middle finger extended in salute, Edward gripped the edges of his seat. I'm sure I was terrifying with my windblown hair and angry eyes.

"Bloody fucking hell, you are like Kali or some sort of Goddess of Vengeance, aren't you?" he shouted at me over the blare of the wind and radio.

"You think I'm a Goddess?" I joked back, trying to lighten the mood after our near accident.

"Yes," he responded, petulant, with a sudden intense, hungry stare. I was a turned on by his aggressive reaction, but I ignored his response and turned my attention back to the road. I didn't trust my mouth not to admit just how hot he was when provoked.

Just before we got down to San Diego, I pulled off the freeway for our first stop, Lou's Records in Encinitas. Lou's was a fairly non-descript, blockly, beige building just off the street. Edward looked a bit skeptical as we got out of the car, but his expression transformed to delight as soon as we crossed the threshold. Every square inch of the store was covered with music – bins and bins of vinyl albums with a few racks of CDs and DVDs, for those who hadn't quite made the transition to other formats. The walls were decorated with new releases and rare albums, rock posters, and flyers for upcoming and past shows. So it was pretty much like any other record shop, to the natural delight of the musician in Edward.

We started browsing the rock section, each of us taking an adjacent bin and periodically pulling a record out for further inspection. We weren't completely familiar with each other's musical taste yet, so we were frequently laughing and shaking our heads 'no' to some odd selections directed to each other. Edward seemed to think I would like all the albums with the most avant garde artwork. I always showed him albums that had dudes with beards on the cover. After several bins, we were flipping through the tops of the albums in rhythm – the heartbeat rhythm, easy harmony and bittersweet melody of us. Our song in an electric pulse between us.

But of course, I've never been much of a musician for all my love of music. I lost the rhythm, our song faltering, as I pulled a record to show Edward, lost my balance, and fell towards him. Without missing a beat, he steadied my fall, his sinewy arms catching me at the hip and elbow before I tripped to the floor. As he pulled me back to my feet, my face was so close to his that our breath was shared, just a wish away from a kiss. His eyes locked on mine, waiting for confirmation, but I found myself paralyzed with the thoughts of the albums I'd just added to my stack to bring home to Jake. Edward seemed to find the strength to break away after I didn't respond and pulled back, straightened up next to me, releasing my body, his spine rigid.

"I think I saw some interesting stuff near the counter when we arrived," he said, backing away and gesturing behind his shoulder. I nodded and he quickly turned and strode up to the front of the shop. I let out a long breath, silently thanking him for coming to his senses. I wasn't sure what I might have done after a few more seconds in his arms.

After I'd finished pawing through the whole rock section, new and used, I felt sufficiently recovered. I headed to the front of the shop where Edward was in animated conversation with the clerk. The clerk handed him a plain brown bag that seemed to have some small contents, definitely not large enough to be an album.

When he caught sight of me approaching, Edward asked, "Did you finish making your selections?" Everything was forgotten and we were back to our normal state of ignoring that buzz between us. "Yup," I replied, "What did you get, Stranger?" He opened up the bag to show me a cassette tape with a hand written label. I quirked an eyebrow at him, and asked, "A cassette?"

"Not just any cassette – a live recording of Pink Floyd, from 1979. This is the only copy of this… anywhere in the world." His eyes gleamed. "Jasper is going to be so jealous." He almost rubbed his hands together in glee like a cartoon villain.

"Do you have a cassette player?" I asked, curious about how he planned to listen to his new acquisition.

"No, but I know people," he chuckled, grinning widely in his excitement. "I'll just get a digital master made so I can share it… well just among a select few that is. Jasper will go to go berserk for it."

"Well, I'm glad you found something. Just give me a minute to pay for the things I found and we can get going." I grinned back, his enthusiasm infectious.

We got back into the car and headed into San Diego proper. I had a few other record shops to visit in the Hillcrest/North Park area, a hipster neighborhood full of boutiques and small cafes. Most of the shops in Hillcrest were small eclectic, punk rock shops with limited selections, but I did find a couple 45s from Jake's wish list. We grabbed lunch after visiting the shops in the city to fortify ourselves for a couple more shops near the ocean. Our conversation was back to being easy, and flirty, but never crossing the invisible line we'd agreed upon.

The drive between Hillcrest and the beach was short, which was good because Edward looked completely relaxed, and so desirable, as we rolled through the streets of San Diego with the top down. The neighborhoods streets near the beach were lined with more boutique shops in tiny store fronts that made a colorful, jumbled path straight to the beach. It was almost difficult to make myself walk into the dark, crowded shops to paw through the record bins when the perfect, sunny day called from outside.

After the second bin in the second shop, I was about done with trying to pretend I was focused on record shopping, when my phone vibrated with a new text message.

A strange man is about to start yelling your name at the top of his lungs if you don't join him outside right now

I giggled to myself that Edward already knew that I would do anything to avoid an action that drew attention to me. I knew he wouldn't actually draw attention to himself (at least not while sober), if only for Jasper's sake, but I sent a quick text back letting him know I'd be out in one minute and quickly purchased the one item I'd found before he could actually do something impulsive. When I stepped outside, he was a few yards down the sidewalk towards the beach, motioning for me to join him. I caught up and we walked without comment towards the ocean, both of us unable to resist the pull of the sun and sand any longer.

Just for a moment, I stopped next to a pair of custom choppers parked outside the row of bars and tattoo shops we were walking past and took a picture with my camera phone. I knew Jake would love checking them out, even if just the images.

"Do you ride?" Edward asked me curiously.

I've been known to…uh, ride," I teased, tossing my hair back with a grin. "Actually, I've been riding since high school, but I don't do it so much anymore now that I am a mom. I'm not quite as reckless now." I didn't want to go into any detail about that particular hobby since it was one that was most closely affiliated with Jake. Jake had fixed up my first bike for me when I'd seen a couple in need of TLC in the neighbor's garage. He always joked that I started him on his motorcycle obsession. He'd "fixed-up" half dozen bikes for me now and we spent most of our free time before the kids came along on the backs of our bikes.

"Do you have a leather jumpsuit?" Edward asked, breathing it directly into my ear. I knew he was imagining a naked woman in skintight leather. He liked at least one French film and the Rolling Stones, so he had probably seen Girl on a Motorcycle, if not jerked off to it multiple times.

"Do you have a thing for Marianne Faithfull?" I asked letting him know that I knew what he was thinking. He didn't respond to my challenge, so I raised an eyebrow.

He shivered lightly and said, "What's that look for? My mind is out of the gutter... even if I had to recall the time I walked in on my aunt in the bathroom to get it there."

I couldn't help but giggle at him and his self-effacing humor. It was a huge part of his charm, well that, and being insanely intelligent and beautiful. We continued our walk, eventually reaching the point where the street ended and the beach began.

"Fancy a walk on the beach," Edward asked hopefully. I checked my internal compass and decided friends could walk together on the beach, so I nodded my ascent.

We wandered down to the beach in our accustomed companionable silence. Before long we came to a low dividing wall between the street and the beach and I couldn't resist balancing my way along it. Edward held his hand up to me to hold for balance, our fingertips just brushing and buzzing at the light contact.

"We don't do that in England," Edward remarked, gesturing towards me.

"What, walk?" I questioned, totally confused.

"Walk on walls," he clarified. "I guess walls are just walls, not obstacles to be conquered."

"Do I seem to be into conquering," I questioned, wondering what brought about that turn of phrase from him.

"Are you?" he asked, searching my eyes intently for an answer.

"What do you mean? Like do I want to conquer someone, as in make someone a conquest, or do I want to be conquered," I probed, trying to understand the suddenly grave conversation.

"Do you want to be... maybe conquered is the wrong word, but be with someone, someone strong, someone who knows what they want?"

"Oh stranger, are you trying to find out if I am into bondage?" I teased, still completely baffled by his questions. He just rolled his eyes in response. I guess he wasn't too shocked by kinky sex.

"Let's just forget I asked... and no, I am not asking about your sexual fetishes, although any you want to share with me are fine." He smiled broadly, purposely trying to be charming, trying to deflect my attention from his odd line of questioning.

"Edward, please, explain. I want to know what you are thinking," I implored, hopping off the wall to stand in front of him, halting our stroll down the beach.

"I just want to be what you need, Bella." His voice was near a whisper as he confessed this with his eyes focused on a spot along the horizon behind me.

"You are. You have been a wonderful friend." I stressed the word friend, cognizant that he was much more, and wanted to be much more, than that to me.

Edward stiffened a bit at my tone and a slowly turned toward the surf. I accompanied him a few yards across the beach to where the hard packed sand of high tide met the loose drifts of the beach proper.

We stood next to each other, silently watching the sun start to slip down the horizon. The wind was blowing his hair, gently scattering it back and forth across his forehead and all that filled my head was a vision of my hand brushing it back behind his ear, fingertips seeking the sensitive concave at the back of his neck and dragging his lips down to mine. I wanted to disavow anytime I had called him my friend. Instead, I stood rigid, our hands just a hairsbreath apart, electrical yearning in a current over my skin and my breath shallow as I stared into the glowing ball until my vision was obliterated. One word from him and I would have done anything; walked hand in hand off into the setting sun, kissed in the sand where the waves met the beach like the famous scene in From Here To Eternity, left my real life behind, whatever he wanted.

I had my head thrown back, feeling the wind off the ocean whip through my hair, willing to blow the thoughts clear out of my head, when I heard a soft click near me. I opened my eyes to see Edward lowering his phone from the front of his face. "I couldn't resist," he confessed, "you just looked so exhilarated. It's a great photo." One of his trademark smirks graced his face. He was definitely enjoying catching me in the unaware.

"Fair is fair," I countered, extending my hand for his phone to capture a photo of him in turn. He placed the phone in my hand, just a light brush of his hand in mine. The camera menu was open, so all I had to do was point and shoot. Edward stood in a still pose, a bland smile on his face while the wind whipped his hair into a wild tousle on his head. It reminded me of the multitudes of posed shots of him at movie premieres and other public events. Of course he looked good, but I wanted something more.

"You look like a tosser," I said, purposely insulting him. He laughed out loud and replied, "I know," and I had managed to capture the wide smile and bright light in his eyes when he'd first heard my jibe. "Do you know what that means?" he asked, smiling and still amused with my tactic. "Yes, I think so. It's like a wanker, right?" I teased again, purposely picking random British slang that I probably wasn't using with the correct nuance. "You are incorrigible," he accused, another one of those wide smiles I loved on his face.

Just as I was about to return the phone to him, a middle-aged couple approached and asked if we'd like our picture taken together. Before I could refuse, Edward had accepted their offer and was gesturing for me to give them his phone. I couldn't be in the photo with him. I would look like a chicken next to a peacock. He came over to my side, his arm snaking loosely around my waist, and the jolt of his touch finally woke me from my thoughts of inadequacy. I put my arm around him and forced myself to smile.

When the helpful photographer considerately asked to take another photo just to be sure, Edward looked over and noticed my scowl. "Do I still look like a tosser?" he asked, crossing his eyes just a bit. Of course, I giggled at his antics just as the second click was heard. "You are a sneaky wanker," I complained with false petulance. "I learned from the best," he said, giving my side a squeeze and releasing me to retrieve his phone.

I took an opportunity to check my phone while he was preoccupied. It was a bit later than I'd thought, probably time to start heading back to LA. I also had no messages, none from either Angela or my family. I sent Jake a quick note to let him know I was safe and made an excuse about being out at a function with Angela and unable to talk. I felt guilty as I sent a second text with good night wishes for the kids, but I didn't feel comfortable with the thought of speaking with my children while my extramarital lover hovered nearby waiting for me to finish.

Edward walked back over when I put my phone away. "Come, we should get back to the car," he suggested with a tilt of his head back towards the street. With a loud exhale, I silently said goodbye to the light mood we'd enjoyed all afternoon and followed him back down the beach to the car.

We made the short trek and quickly left San Diego behind us. We waved to Lou's in Encinitas from the freeway as mellow classic rock played from Edward's iPod. I wanted to reach across the chasm between our bucket seats to hold Edward's hand, but I pressed my hand tightly to my thigh to keep from following that desire. I felt the meaning of the phrase 'sweet torture'.

A tune I recognized as being performed by one of Edward's friends came on and I looked over at Edward, catching another smile.

"Do you know this song? Edward asked.

"Yes," I replied hesitantly, wondering if this was some sort of secret test. Is Bella actually a creepy stalker that listens to all my friends bands just because they are my friends (I didn't and just knew a few of their songs).

"I can relate," Edward answered cryptically. The lyrics seemed to capture a relationship where one person feels that the other can't accept them as they are. We both listened as the words and mournful music unfolded.

I could be somewhere else

I should be someone else but

You wouldn't know me if I was

You'd say I was a stranger just because

You'd say I wasn't weak enough for you

You'd want me just to feel as you do too

I felt a pang in my heart that Edward would think for a second that I didn't want him just as he was. I couldn't imagine a more perfect person for me and I couldn't believe he didn't know how hard this was for me too, constantly fighting the connection between us.

It was bittersweet to arrive back in LA after our halcyon day. I was intensely grateful to him for giving me the carefree day in his company, but I knew it was just a bubble that would burst and we would be right back to the complicated dance around my marriage and our overwhelming attraction. I hoped the time would tick out on my stay in LA before our bubble would burst.

As we rode up the elevator to his room (of course I had said yes when he invited me up), the electricity between us was more intense than ever. I had visions of cinematic elevator sex scenes running through my head and I think we both breathed in relief when the doors finally opened. We decided to order room service instead of venturing out again for food and I suffered though the entire meal sitting next to Edward on the couch and trying not to watch his mouth as he ate. After more than a day without his kiss, it was like holding the only glass of water in the desert, without drinking.

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Edward said, standing up from the couch and stretching. His t-shirt rode up exposing a small silver of skin and I had to dig my fingers into the cushion to keep from reaching out to touch the pale band.

He walked across the room and pulled the divider curtain across the way to give us each our privacy. I heard the water of the shower come on and I lay my head back on the top of the couch, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to stop the images of his naked body from Thursday night playing before them.

It was absolutely torture to be with him, but unable to physically act upon my desire for him. Every moment we'd spent together today had been perfect. He followed my lead, acted the perfect gentleman, mostly kept the conversation on friendly or intellectual topics, and never once made me feel uncomfortable. Edward had shown me this facet of his person… his true soul. He was just Edward today. Not an actor, a celebrity's best friend, a sex symbol, a drunken denizen of the night, a member of the English elite, or a chosen son of the British film industry. All those mantles he shouldered had seemed to fly away on the ocean breeze leaving just the man.

As each of those constructed layers had been stripped away, it was as if the insulation provided by their presence was also lost. Edward and I had connected without any of the pretense that normally stood between us. We were just two people, two simple souls, joined in our common longing. I wanted Edward to know how deeply being with him like this had touched me. How much the sacrifice of his desire and actually inflamed mine.

In a moment of resolve born of that realization, I quickly removed my clothes and silently drew back the dividing curtain. Edward was enclosed in the glass walled shower, exposed, but with his back to the room. The small white square tiles created an illusion of a canvas, and Edward's lean, wet body was its work of art. I only allowed my eyes a second to take in his form as I didn't want him to notice me quite yet. I swiftly, but stealthy continued toward the shower and scooped up a soft, white towel from the counter as I pulled open the shower door.

Edward turned as he heard the door open and his eyes widened at the sight of my naked body entering the warm spray. Thousands of sparkling water droplets covered the defined planes of his skin under the ambient light in the shower. I watched as a thin rivulet of water slid off a broad shoulder, past his dusky nipple, over the ridges of his abdomen and into the dark curls below. I wanted to capture the essence carried in every drop flowing over his body and dropped to my knees as I positioned the towel in front of him.

"Yessss," he hissed out slowly, clutching the towel bar and letting his head fall back against the tile wall. With that invitation, I let my tongue begin to taste as many drops as I could from his abdomen, thighs and hard penis. He murmured in pleasure as I finally took him fully into my mouth, my thumbs caressing the concave space inside each of his hipbones and I pulled and pushed him in a steady pace.

After several minutes, his rhythmic moans stopped as he cautioned me that he wouldn't last much longer. I quickened my pace and worked my tongue furiously against the underside of his penis, my hands holding him in my mouth and firmly at the base. As I felt the first pulse and tasted his salty fluid, I pulled back and let him coat my collarbones and the tops of my breasts. I know the limits of my gag reflex and I definitely wasn't a porn star. Besides, I think men find it just as sexy to see a woman coated with their semen as having her swallow it all down.

As soon as he recovered, Edward dropped to his knees with me and kissed me hard. "That was…ughhnn…so good, unexpected, but so good," he whispered to me, claiming my mouth for another deep kiss. When we stopped to breathe again, I noticed how his wet hair fell over his eyes and he looked impossibly more sexy because of it.

"You look so beautiful right now, all wet, your lips all swollen" he said, his voice deepened in passion and sentiments almost exactly matching my own.

"And covered with your jizz," I observed, with humor.

"Oh right, let's get you cleaned up," he replied, apologetically. I let him rinse me off, soap me up and scrub me back down again. He made sure to pay special attention to all the erogenous zones and interrupted his work repeatedly to kiss me.

Finally, when we were both squeaky clean, we emerged, wrapped ourselves in more soft, white hotel towels and padded back over to the bed. Edward sat down next to me and we continued kissing, progressively more deeply. At some point he pulled open the towel I had around me and started caressing my breasts. I was getting lost in the pleasure of his touch and kiss, so it took me a few seconds to realize his intention when he slid down the edge of the bed and began to nudge open my legs.

"Stranger, you don't have to do that," I told him, trying to pull him back up to me and holding my legs together tightly. Jake generally complained that it took forever for me to get off and I didn't want Edward to feel bad if I didn't orgasm for him immediately. Plus, this was about me worshipping Edward, showing him how much I connected to him, not about me.

"I want to," he replied, looking me in the eye as his hand attempted to nudge my knees apart. I scooted back on the bed, quickly rolled over the side, stood up and wrapped my towel back around me. Edward stood up too and followed me around the side of the bed. I hadn't really thought it through when I was fleeing his insistent hands because now I was trapped between the desk that ran the length of a wall of windows, the bed and Edward. I feinted back towards the bed and attempted to escape Edward by sliding past him along the desk, but he was too fast. He trapped me between his muscled arms, up against the desk.

"Beautiful girl, did you think I wouldn't want to reciprocate?" he asked me, his eyes twin blue blazes as he looked at me like something to eat. Well, he did want to eat me… in so many words.

"Just lie back and relax," he ordered. He gently helped lift me onto the surface of the desk and pushed me back so I was reclining on my elbows. He peeled my towel open again and pushed my knees up and apart. He licked his index finger and rubbed it tentatively against my exposed clitoris, and was rewarded with my groan of pleasure.

I watched as he rolled the nearby desk chair under him and angled his body so that he would have unfettered access to work. A screw of pleasurable anticipation wound in my gut as I watched him part my lips and begin his explorations. After a minute, I threw my head back to rest against the glass of the window, lost again in the sensations Edward was creating in my body. Maybe it was his musician hands, a tongue capable of mastering film dialogue or some other hidden talent, but in no time at all, I was cumming hard against his lips and I was crying out in my pleasure for him to fuck me.

Being nothing if not attentive to my desires, he lifted me to my feet and backed me around and down onto the bed. His thumb found my clitoris and created the most wonderful aftershocks of pleasure as he slid himself into my wetness. His groan was coarse and ragged, as he moved in a quick rhythm against me. I must have urged him to go harder, because I remember him grabbing my hips tightly and throwing his head back to expose the curve of his adams apple. He moaned my name as he pulled his body tightly to mine and came inside me.

Once we had come down from the high of our lovemaking and cleaned ourselves off, Edward pulled me into his arms under the covers. He turned on the television since it was still quite early found an old episode of The Wire to watch. I teased him about the show since I had several friends that lived in Baltimore and they complained about how reality and the depictions of reality on The Wire were not quite as close as most people believed. But, of course, Edward was much more interested in the performance of the actors than the veracity of the script and I eventually drifted off to sleep in the middle of some drug deal gone awry.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: I completely missed updating on schedule (almost two weeks ago) so I am posting one chapter today and then another tomorrow. That should get me back on my post every other Thursday schedule. I had a little incident with a flash drive and other assorted RL issues get in the way of the schedule – I'm sure you all understand.**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Oceansize – Unravel (or Ravel - Le Gibet from Gaspard de la Nuit)**

**Arcade Fire – Ocean of Noise**

**A-ha – Manhattan Skyline**

**Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 7

I awoke for the third morning in a row in Edward's bed, soft light from the muted television illuminating him asleep on the bed next to me. I glanced over to the clock in panic, hoping I had the time I needed to stop by Angela's and get to the airport, and realized it was still the middle of the night, 3:30 am.

Relieved, I lay back down for a few more hours of sleep.

But now I was awake, hyperaware of Edward's body next to mine. We were both still naked and the heat from his body warmed the space under the covers.

My eyes roamed the exposed part of his torso cataloging the pattern of his chest hair, cords of his muscle and hard lines of his shoulders. I tentatively reached out to touch him, but he didn't move or make a sound, far gone into sleep.

After one touch I couldn't _not _touch him. While he remained statue still, I let my lips and fingertips softly brush over the exposed flesh, exploring upward to kiss the lines of his neck and jaw.

Suddenly, I realized the time I had left with him was measured in hours, not days, and I felt the need to impress every part of him into my memory. My lips and fingers moved more widely across his body, tracing his tiny nipples and the hollows of his ribs. He moaned quietly as my hand swept down the plane of his abdomen, pushing the comforter down, and swirled into the trail of hair. Soon, his erection was nudging at my hand and his moans swelled when I finally took it into my hand.

I looked up, and in the dim glow, saw his eyes were cracked open just before I stroked him gently, causing them to roll back in his head. He threw his head back with a deep moan as I wrapped my hand more tightly and increased my speed. He was no longer at rest, but tight and writhing, whispering my name. I wanted to join him in that unhinged state, so I moved myself over and onto his waiting erection.

Once joined, we both whispered mantras of each other's names.

Edward... Edward, my Stranger

Bella... Bella... Beautiful Girl

Edward

Bella

Edward

Bella… ughnn

Edward... Edward, Edward... Edwaaah

I had never been so connected to another person. I searched though my memories of Jake for a time when I had been physically and emotionally lost in him, but could only recall our sex life as an obligation.

I continued to grind against Edward as I reflected on it. I realized that my attitude towards sex, especially once Jake and I were married, had always been one of fulfilling a duty. Of course I had derived pleasure from the act, and pleasing Jake, but fulfillment of my desire had always taken a backseat. So much that I often did not have an orgasm and I hadn't really even worried about it.

But now that I had experienced sex with a partner that cared if I was satisfied, and even more so, connected to emotionally during the act, I could clearly see the contrast. In that moment, I could not imagine returning to the sexual, albeit marital, relationship I had shared with Jake.

_Being with someone other than Edward._

The thought stabbed through me, causing physical pain in my chest.

That pain filled me and spilled over in a patter of tears, softly landing with tampered beats against the the sheet beneath. I let out one small sob and then I was suddenly crying in earnest while our bodies still moved in pleasurable sync. My sobs became louder and Edward suddenly became aware of my state.

"Are you crying, Bella," he asked, concern in his gravelly whisper. "Are you hurt?"

"Not… in the way… you think," I chocked out between each sobbing breath in.

"Are you thinking of leaving... Of _him_?" he asked, nostrils flaring and eyes flashing in the flicking light.

"No… yes… I don't know," I moaned in response, filled with so many conflicting emotions. I knew I had to return to Jake, but how could I be happy with him after Edward.

"I will make you forget him. I will make you forget anyone but me," he vowed, tightening his hold on my hips. In a flurry of motion, Edward had pushed me down onto my back, pressing himself tightly into me to maintain contact the whole way. His eyes also bore into mine, never breaking contact. His hands were set firmly as he rocked our hips in slow rhythm, grinding against my pelvis.

He delivered on his promise, my heartbeat throbbing steadily, heavily, in my ears as I built into the first orgasm I had ever achieved from intercourse. Something about the angle, slow pace and possessive tone of his voice, resonated in my body as I clawed and begged him for more. When the moment of my physical release was achieved, I exploded into thousands of tiny shards beneath him, breaking, forgetting, floating.

Once back on Earth and in his arms, he held me and softly stroked the hair back from my face.

"Come back to sleep. We will sort it in the morning," he commanded, pulling me gently, but firmly against his body. Within minutes he was back to sleep, soft kisses and then just his even breath on the back of my neck. But I couldn't drift off into a procrastinating sleep. I was still wide awake, watching the minutes on the clock count down our time together again.

From the moment we met, the time of my departure had been drawing nearer. Our goodbye was never in question, just the ultimate time and manner of it. But, having to watch Edward's eyes as he begged, as I knew he would, would just make it that much more difficult to leave. Prolonging my departure could only be worse.

With that finally resolved in my mind, I swiftly moved into action.

I crept out of bed and set myself into motion. After feeling my way along the desk in the dim light, I found a sheet of hotel stationary in an annoyingly clever drawer concealed in the underside of the desk. With the paper in hand, I tiptoed over to my purse to retrieve a pen and scooped Edward's phone from the coffee table. I quickly checked that the minute noises I had made in my search for writing materials had not reawakened Edward, grabbed my discarded clothes and crept silently to the bathroom. Once the door was softly, but completely closed, I turned on the lights to illuminate the terrible work I set myself to do.

I wrote swiftly, finding all the sentiments I needed to convey fit in an impossible small number of words.

_My dear Stranger,__  
__Please forgive me for writing my goodbye to you in a letter, but I would never be strong enough to leave if you asked me to stay. I can just barely break the gravity between us to leave now. Leave as I must have from the beginning._

_Although it is not my right to give it, my heart now belongs to you._

_But, and I know you will understand, my decisions can not be guided by my heart. I have obligations to a husband, and more importantly, two children who I could never prioritize below any other consideration._

_My dearest wish is that the empty spot that has been left in lieu of my heart, will hold the memories of our time together for both of us. I have erased all traces of myself so that you may move forward unencumbered any burdens beyond my poor heart and its hope that you will find true happiness like that you have given to me._

_This letter will be the only memento you shall have of me. Be assured that I will not trouble your career or personal life in the future._

_In love and longing,__  
__Your Bella_

I folder the paper, writing his name on one side and picked up his phone next. I scrolled through the matrix of images until I got to the few taken during our time together. There was one of me in profile from the White Lips show that I hadn't known that Edward had taken. The rest were from earlier today, or technically yesterday… of us together on the beach. I quickly forwarded all of the photos containing my image and the one I had taken of Edward on the beach to my phone. Then I erased any traces of myself from his phone. I deleted the images, my phone number and the text messages I had sent earlier. As I erased the last message, I felt more burdened rather than less, but it was my burden to endure in the face of my behavior.

Once I had dressed and cleaned up a bit, I turned off the bathroom light and slowly, quietly opened the bathroom door. I expected to find Edward immediately on the other side, somehow godly omniscient in regards to my plan to leave, but he was still just a man, silhouetted by the glow of the television on the bed. I silently tread over to the table where I had picked up his phone, replaced it, and left the letter next to it.

It would have been wiser for me to have left at that point, but I hadn't made any wise decisions since meeting Edward so I wouldn't start now – just as I was leaving him.

I walked silently over to the bed, devouring the lines of his muscled back and hard edges of his profile as he slept on his stomach. I leaned down and brushed the barest trace of my lips against his brow, and let the intense buzz of our touch overcome me for the last time.

I almost gave in at that moment and crawled back beneath the covers. Instead, I clenched the comforter at the edge of the bed let out a silent, screaming sob against my other fist and then slowly backed away until I was able to grab the back of the couch for support. Willing my knees to hold me for just a few more minutes, I steeled myself to walk out the door. My last memory of Edward was the too bright fluorescent light from the hallway spotlighting his form as I quietly opened and closed the door.

I managed to make it to the elevator before I stumbled on my weak knees. I kept my wobbling to a minimum until I collapsed into my car in the parking garage. But, I didn't let myself cry or wallow too long, fearing Edward would awaken and come find me still sitting in a daze in the hotel garage.

I pulled the car out of the parking garage and onto the empty streets. There was no traffic on an early Sunday morning in a still slumbering downtown Los Angeles. Through blurry eyes, I watched each neon lit city block flicker past. I was relieved the outside world was calm and subdued because I was a violent tumult on the inside.

In my distressed state, I missed the entrance for the freeway and found myself just in front of the theater where I had attended the premiere on Wednesday night. It was shocking to reflect that it had been just over three days since I had bumped into Edward and found myself utterly under his spell. So much had changed.

I pulled the car over realizing that I couldn't see to drive through the fresh batch of tears spilling from my eyes as I recalled our meeting.

His deep smooth voice, his reactions to my questions in his deep curious eyes, the push and pull of our conversation, and that tingle I still felt in his presence. We never stood a chance of fighting the attraction. All of our subsequent attempts to work it out were and would be doomed. I had done the only thing that could possibly break that spell...

Left him.

And hopefully, time and distance, would help us forget.

I finally put the car in gear, found my way back to the freeway. After a short ride, I was back and Angela's and all was still silent. The sun hadn't yet risen, but the sky was just starting to lighten as I let myself into the guest room. I briefly thought about lying back down to sleep, but realized I would never be able to shut my eyes without seeing Edward. It was better if I just gathered my belongings and headed for the airport.

The last thing I did before departing was leave a note for Angela with my deepest apologies and a request that she contact me. I explained that I had cut all contact with Edward and had no intention of seeing him ever again. I acknowledged the fact that I had unfairly asked her to keep this from Jake and thanked her for being willing to do so for a crappy friend like me. I could only hope that after our years of friendship, Angela would eventually be ready to accept my apology.

My plane didn't leave until mid-morning, but I decided it would just be best to head to the airport immediately. I was flying out of Burbank, not the more popular LAX. Edward would most likely look for me at the latter if he did try to come after me.

After saying a bittersweet goodbye to the mid-life crisis mobile (I'd grown fond of it after so many moments with Edward in the passenger seat), making my way through check-in and security, and purchasing an overpriced cup of chai tea, I found myself at the gate with a few hours to wait. I pulled out a novel as camouflage so I could stare uncomprehendingly at the page and try to order my thoughts.

About numerous things I was absolutely positive.

I hadn't visited Los Angeles with the intention of having an affair.

I hadn't intended to fall in love with a man who was not my husband - but I had.

I had never wanted to be 'just friends' with Edward Cullen.

I didn't want to run away from him and I didn't want this to be goodbye. But I couldn't choose to leave my family.

I didn't want to face Edward again, only to leave. I could call him now, but even miles across Los Angeles, I could almost feel his anguish and I couldn't watch that hurt on his beautiful face as I said goodbye.

I didn't want to hurt Edward. I didn't want to hurt Angela. I didn't want to hurt myself. But I had.

I didn't want to cry again, I just wanted to be strong and atone for the hurt I'd caused to those that meant the most to me - I hoped in time I could.

I would never see Edward's face again - at least not in person - but I would be taunted with it in the media and that torture was no worse than I deserved.

As I boarded the plane, just a handful of hours away from returning to my normal life, I would have liked to been able to admit that I felt relief.

When my plane departed and no dramatic scene that involved Edward yelling for me across the airport lounge ensued, I would have liked to been able to admit that I felt relief.

But I did not. I felt empty - empty and guilty.

Guilty for what I had done to Jake, guilty for putting Angela in the middle of it, and guilty for never giving Edward a chance to say goodbye.

But I knew goodbye was not a word that he would ever willingly say to me, so I had left him without a choice.

At some point during the flight, I must have drifted to exhausted sleep, because I woke up drooling on my arm as bells chimed our decent into Washington, DC.

Jake and the kids met me at the airport with huge grins, hugs that pulled me off my feet and a homemade sign proclaiming, _We "heart" U Mommy_.

"Mommy, are you home for good?" Billy asked, as he clung to my leg. With his stick-straight black mop of hair, big brown eyes and tanned skin, his was the spitting image of the Jake I remembered from my childhood. I nodded yes and turned to pick up Claire as she made a running jump into my arms.

"I wrewy missed you Mama," she cried in her high pitched singsong. I stroked her long, dark hair as I hugged her tightly to me. Tears finally broke through the dam I had created in my attempt to get home without breaking down again and I was unable to stop as we waited for my luggage. Jake patted my back in support as I sniffled away against his chest. This in turn made the tears fall faster, his chest being the wrong one for the consolation I needed.

"Sssshhh," Jake calmly breathed in my ear, "you'll upset the kids." He was right, I was acting just a bit too upset to pretend I was crying tears of joy at the reunion with my family. I'd managed to stopper my tears by the time we piled into the car for the trip back home.

"Let's order a pizza," Jake suggested, tenderly rubbing my leg to show his concern. I generally took care of all the meals and this was Jake's way of letting me off the hook for the evening.

"Hooray, I wuv pizza," Claire cheered as Billy high-fived Jake. Any worry the kids might have been harboring for me disappeared in their excitement to have a rarely allowed "junk food."

After pizza and a movie, I put the kids to bed for the night. Jake helped me unpack before I got ready for bed myself.

"Fuck yeah, Bella! You found some awesome scores," Jake exclaimed as he pawed through all the vinyl records I'd brought back from LA. He was thrilled with the special items I'd found for him and sent me to bed alone after I claimed exhaustion while he played a few albums.

I finally felt a small bit of the relief I was so longing for when I realized that I didn't have to fabricate an explanation for my behavior or have an intimate reunion with Jake, at least not yet.

As I lay with my eyes closed, waiting for sleep, I wondered what Edward was doing across the miles. It would come to be my new obsession.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: So this is where the story gets angsty – if you don't like it, I would abandon ship now!**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**The Pogues – Haunted by the Ghost**

**Noah and the Whale – Second Lover**

**Laura Veirs – July Flame (probably the best longing song ever…)**

**The Rolling Stones – Miss You**

**Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page. **

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 8

I was thrown back into my real life first thing the next morning. The kids woke-up when Jake got up at 5:30am and wouldn't let me sleep for the extra half hour until my alarm went off at six. My morning routine was complicated by the overflowing sink of dirty dishes, messy kitchen table and lack of clean underwear for the youngest - who apparently had a few accidents in regards to the potty since Mommy was gone - yet another thing to feel guilty about.

Once each child was delivered to their respective school and I had dragged myself to the Metro train, I finally had a minute to myself. I just sat quietly in the seat, closed my eyes and pictured Edward on the beach from less than two days earlier. I was surprised that I felt serene and joyful at the thought, rather like visiting my 'happy place'. I'd thought his memory would bring me guilt, but it seemed to help keep me sane in my hectic, humdrum life instead. I think I smiled my first smile since my carefree afternoon with Edward.

The office was crazy as ever, my co-workers glad to see me back so they could send more work my way. _Those briefing papers weren't gonna write themselves._I checked my calendar and saw I had a fairly busy week ahead with trying to get caught up and meetings on Capitol Hill leading up to the end of the Congressional session. A new slate of elected officials were due to start in January, so we'd have a lot of work trying to get key legislation passed before Congress adjourned for the holidays.

My phone rang with a number I didn't recognize, but seemed vaguely familiar. I realized it had a Los Angeles area code and figured it might have been a business I visited last week giving me a follow-up call. I hit ignore and went on with my day of meetings.

When I returned to my desk I noticed my phone had over 10 missed calls and an equal amount of new text messages. I hadn't bothered to bring my cell into my meetings since I was just down the hall from my desk. Thinking that maybe something had happened to Jake or the kids, I immediately checked the messages.

I was shocked and confused to hear Edward on the recording.

_Bella, I know you don't want to talk to me, but please call me back. I love you.__  
_  
_How did Edward get my number? _I could have sworn I erased all traces of me from his phone. Maybe he'd written down my number as a back-up in that little black notebook he carried around, or maybe Jasper's connections found my unlisted cell phone. I hesitated over the save button and then decided to erase the message. I could not have Jake hearing this accidentally.

_Bella..., please..., I know you are scared, but we will figure this out together, just give me a chance._

I hit the erase button again, a little piece of my heart dying as the message was erased forever.

_Bella, I am going crazy, why aren't you answering. I love you so much. I miss you._

The tears started as I hit delete again.

_Beautiful girl, maybe you thought I didn't care yesterday, but I didn't think to look for your number in the call history until today. I know you thought it would be best this way, but I will find you. I need to...please.__  
_  
Oh god, I'd really driven him crazy. But I knew he would eventually move on. It had only been one day and a few hours. He would probably drink himself silly for a few weeks and then be over me. But in the meanwhile, I couldn't have him tracking me down.

I tried to recall what personal details he might know. Obviously, my first name and cell phone number, and the fact that I had a friend in Silver Lake, but not much else. At work I used my maiden name, Isabella Swan, for professional reasons, so he wouldn't find me that way. I used a screen name for all my social networking accounts and I didn't think I had too much out on the Internet as Bella Black. So as long as I changed my cell phone number, I should be okay.

I deleted the rest of the voice messages without listening and the text messages too. I couldn't have a break down at work and I definitely would if I heard Edward get more and more desperate with each call. I immediately called my cell phone provider and requested a change of number. They were very accommodating and said the service change would be made within a few hours. I put the phone on mute as I finished my work for the day and was pleasantly surprised to hear my phone number was out of service when I called it from my desk phone at the end of the day.

I did have two more voice messages from Edward that he must have left before the number was disconnected. Since I was probably the last person in the office, I decided I could listen and not too many people would notice if I left upset.

_"__Bella...,"_ he slurred and then trailed off. I could hear quiet sobbing in the background. "_You've changed me forever. There's no going back for me. You are it...,"_ No sobbing now, just uneven breathing. _"Please tell me you love me..."_ More breathing. _"You haunt me...,"_then nothing until the message reached its limit.

The last message was different and took me by surprise. Edward had music playing in the background and was whispering lyrics over the top of the audio.

_Oh, and when will our heartbeats fall into two lines__  
__And the click-clack of our boot heels beat out the same time__  
__Oh, and when will your hand find itself in mine?__  
__Oh, and when will your hand find itself in mine?_

_And though I don't know your real name__  
__Your real age, or your shoe size__  
__I will leave this bedroom chair__  
__And this WHISKEY behind (he'd shouted that over the music)_

_And I will love you in reality and dreams__  
__And I will love you in reality and dreams_

_And though it kills me to know__  
__That when we were through__  
__You went to your real lover__  
__Who put real kisses on you_

_Oh well, an ex is about the best that I can do__  
__Oh well, an ex is about the best that I can do_

_And so this lonely, lonely hull__  
__Has no use left for living__  
__After finding her love__  
__In a heart so unpermitting_

_And I will die and never ever hold your hand__  
__And I will die and never ever hold your hand_

_But I'll kiss my lips and I'll blow it to you__  
__It'll be the last thing that I ever do__  
__And wherever you go and whatever you do__  
__There's a man underground that will always love you_

The phone message cut off at that point, it seemed like before the song was over, but I'd heard enough to realize the sentiment of the unrequited love song seemed to fit our situation perfectly from Edward's point of view. Just to punish myself, I played it again, Googling the lyrics I could understand. It seemed to be the tune, _Second Lover_by Noah and the Whale. I found the track online and confirmed it and then in just skimming basic information about the band, I realized that Edward probably knew them. Maybe they were even his friends. I felt touched and saddened that he'd chosen a tune so close to his world to speak to me.

Of course I had tears in my eyes, but I was somehow comforted by the fact that Edward was finding consolation in his beloved music (and an alcoholic beverage). It seemed like a very normal "break-upy" thing to do and I was jealous that I couldn't get drunk and wallow too. But with those thoughts, I was cognizant that I was running late to get back home, so I quickly packed up and caught the train.

When I walked in the door, barely holding it together emotionally and about 20 minutes late, Jake was irate.

"Bella, what the FUCK?" he yelled, completely ignoring the fact that the kids were in the next room.

"Jake, watch your language around the kids," I spat back.

"They are so busy watching cartoons, they won't notice," he hissed back.

"How long have they been in front of the TV?" I chastised, annoyed that Jake always seemed to turn to the "electric babysitter" when I wasn't around to channel them into other activities.

"Bella, stop fucking changing the subject. You are late and I couldn't get a hold of you. Did you know your piece of shit phone is disconnected?" he raged.

"Yes, Jake, I would've called from the train, but I couldn't use my phone. The train was delayed, it's out of my control," I tried to cover my misdeed with a white lie. "I had to disconnect the phone today because... well, Angela and I got in a huge fight when I was there and I just can't deal with her attitude right now. I just freaked out." I was making up excuses on the fly with the first things that popped into my mind, but at least it held a grain of truth.

"What the fuck? Angela?" Jake countered, "She's your best friend. Why would you disconnect the phone?" His suspicious glare just about had me confessing all right then. If he'd shown just a bit of compassion I might have broken down, but his unrelenting anger caused my own anger to flare right back.

"Yes," I hissed, breathing out in a huff. "Angela was taking out her frustration about her failed marriage on me and said some pretty hurtful things. She's jealous of our marriage." I felt like the worst friend for twisting my conversation with Angela to suit my own purposes, but at least I'd have a good explanation for the sudden chilling in my friendship with Angela and provided an excuse for my emotional mood swings since my return home.

"Why the fuck wouldn't you call me from work to tell me you disconnected your phone?" he countered, finding a hole in my explanation. "I thought there was a problem with the bike shop phone bill."

"I didn't think it would happen that fast, I thought I would just tell you when I got home," I prevaricated, but with some truth. I really _did_ think it would take longer to disconnect the old number.

"So, here's me telling you, and here's my new number," I sassed while texting Jake from my phone. The cover story about my fight with Angela seemed like a good reason for a series of calls from LA on my phone and should ease Jake's suspicion. Since my phone was part of the garage business plan, Jake would be able to review the calls. My head was spinning from trying to keep track of all my half-truths. In the past, when I didn't have anything to hide, I never would've given it a second thought.

"I need to go to the shop for a bit. Fucking Embry..." Jake spat back as I suddenly understood he'd already been pissed about something at the shop when he couldn't get a hold of me earlier. He always complained about having to redo Embry's work.

"Fine," I retorted, glad Jake would be gone and I would have some time to myself to get my emotions back under control after a rollercoaster of an evening. I thought maybe he would've been concerned about my welfare since I was walking home from the train after dark, but he was only worried about me being there so that he could run to the shop quick.

Luckily, Jake was placated by the twin promises of his favorite meal for dinner and some "fun time" once the kids were asleep. I had a feeling getting the kids fed, bathed and in bed while preparing dinner and washing some underwear and socks was going to be the easy part of my night.

Not long after I'd crawled into bed, Jake returned home and joined me after a quick shower.

"I'm glad you're home and I'm sorry about earlier," he whispered, rolling over to put an arm around me. "I've just been stressed out between the kids and the shop. I swear everyone decided to have an accident the week you went out of town." Jake's apologetic attitude did soften my feelings towards him after earlier this evening.

"So you and Angela had a pretty big fight, huh?" he asked, causing me to tense in recollection of my lies.

"Yeah, obviously we aren't talking," I responded, giving as little information as possible so as not to get caught in my lies.

"So she's having a hard time with the divorce? I thought she was excited to be a free agent."

"It's not so much that she is unhappy to be divorced it's more that she is just envious of all that we have together."

"Like our hot sex life?" Jake joked, breathing softly in my ear. Our sex life was definitely a bit curtailed with a busy family life, slightly different schedules and general complacency due to being an "old married couple."

"Totally," I joked back. Jake seemed to take my affable replies as an invitation for more. One of his hands slid along my side, caressing the curve in my hip and then farther up to cup my breast. The feel of his hands on me immediately brought to mind Edward's touch and I felt slightly uncomfortable that another man, _who just happened to be my husband_, was touching me.

Jake pressed his growing erection into my backside, making his intentions fairly obvious. In that moment I had a choice to make. I could stall him by pleading exhaustion, but I would eventually have to resume our sexual relationship. Maybe it would be easier if I waited a bit and give myself some time to forget Edward's touch, but it might also be harder the longer I waited and also raise Jake's suspicion about my hesitancy.

I slowly pressed back against Jake, escalating our foreplay, pushing down my uneasy feelings. Jake started kissing the sensitive spots on the back of my neck and a lyric from the song Edward had whispered along to over the phone earlier ran through my head.

_You went to your real lover, who put real kisses on you._

With a shake of my head in a futile attempt to clear the sad melody, I propelled myself over and on top of Jake. I was acting on desperate instinct - to save my marriage, to try to forget Edward. I quickly slid Jake inside and closed my eyes tight against the welling tears. Images of Edward in the half light of his hotel room, under me, then over me - a remembrance of our last time together - filled my consciousness.

Eventually, Jake had his orgasm and rolled over to sleep after a quick peck on my lips. After a trip to the bathroom to clean-up, I lay back down in bed and silently cried myself to sleep. It was terrible to realize I felt worse about cheating on Edward, than I had felt about cheating on my husband. I just hoped that it would get easier over time.

My life settled into its usual frantic routine of kids, work and an occasional social event. I was spending more time in the evening at the office. I told Jake it was for work due to a new piece of legislation, but in reality, I was staying late to "stalk" Edward on the Internet. I was still so crazy in love with him and it was the only way to hold onto my memories. After just a few months, it already felt that our time together had happened a lifetime ago.

It was almost impossible to find information about him, but he did have a few fan sites and online communities devoted to his worship. I had become a regular, but slightly hated, member of all that I could find. Hated, because I couldn't let a comment go by that was obviously false, although I often could not offer reasons why I commented and felt the way I did - it's not like I could announce that I'd had an affair with Edward. Those girls would hate me more (and they could be mean) and its not like anyone would believe it.

I also devoured any and all fanfiction about him. I was sorely tempted to write my own experiences as a story - just as a form of therapy, but I really had to watch myself in those comments because some of the soap opera shit the fanfiction authors had Edward up to... illegitimate babies, heroin addiction, ridiculous sex (okay, maybe that was kinda true)... well, it was hard not to defend his honor.

One positive thing about the Internet stalking was that it put me back in touch with Angela, although she was unaware of it. I'd also taken to reading Jasper fan sites because more often than not, Edward would be mentioned or seen in conjunction with Jasper. I'd read some critical comments about Edward on some Jasper sites by one person and through several unintentional (on her part) clues, realized it was Angela commenting. I was happy she was still enjoying her little Jasper hobby and I was also able to get her to soften her negative comments about Edward online although anonymously and never to the degree I wished. After our initial online sparring, we became online BFFs, an irony I wished I could share with her in real life.

One day when I logged in, the fan sites were all a flutter about a new Edward Cullen interview. He'd been confirmed in a new role, playing a man who was systematically destroying the life of a woman who'd broken his heart. _Big stretch_, I'd though to myself, but I was glad he was working. That seemed to be a sign that he was moving forward with his life.

But, the new role wasn't really the big news from the interview. It seems that when Edward was asked about his motivation to accept the role, instead of giving the stock response about being a challenge or some such, he mentioned that he'd been in a similar situation in real life. Of course the interviewer latched onto this and Edward revealed that he was still very much in love with a woman who did not return his love that he referred to as his "Beautiful Girl." Fortunately, there was no video of the interview available. I wasn't sure if I could stand watching as he professed his love, recited his misguided belief that I no longer loved him and formed the words Beautiful Girl - in relation to me - with those luscious lips.

The online ladies were wild with speculation about who this mysterious "Beautiful Girl" might be, digging up all manner of women who were ever associated with him in any way. I held up breath as I read through the guesses, but no one was even remotely close. They all seemed to point to alleged and confirmed past relationships, friends from London or current single celebrity gals. Angela was curiously mute on the conversation and I knew I could trust her not to reveal me.

If I wasn't already tortured enough through my Internet monitoring of Edward, he started sending little messages to me in all his interviews. Of course the media were dogged in their attempts to figure out who Beautiful Girl was and they questioned Edward about it incessantly. He seemed to be happy to talk about his feelings for me, but would not provide any other details about me or our time together. He constantly reiterated his love and a request that I call him. I felt immensely flattered, my cheeks red and heart beating faster each time Edward mentioned me. I knew he did not lightly profess his heart. I actually believed an interview he'd done prior to meeting me existed where he implied he was adverse to recording his feelings so that they might be reevaluated at a future point.

But it was also difficult to hear his vows of love because I couldn't do anything to respond. I had chosen my course and the path back to Edward was too painful and impossible.

When summer came, I found myself sitting on a picnic bench in the back yard, branches of tall oaks overhead dark in the dusky light. It was the Fourth of July and I was waiting for the small neighborhood fireworks show courtesy of the law bending neighbors to commence. We had decided that the trip down into DC for fireworks on the National Mall was just too much with two young kids.

Jake was helping Billy and Claire light their sparklers and they would run a swoop around my perch on the picnic table for the short minute each sparkler stayed lit. I lay back against the table top as the first fireworks of the night started beyond the lacework of the branches. As it did so often, I let my mind wander to what Edward might be doing. I was fairly certain that he was in New York working on a small indie film, but there had been no sightings for a few days. I imagined that he too was staring up at the sky overhead, maybe from a fancy penthouse apartment or a lake cabin porch at someone's place in Upstate.

A particularly intricate firework with branching tips like a dandelion seed in shades of blue, reminded me of Edward's eyes, bright and so beautiful. The sharp pang in my heart made me gasp and I was glad that I could play it off as a reaction to the display. I wanted to be watching fireworks from inside Edward's arms, feeling the soft kisses he would place on my neck, belonging to him. I wanted to be his and I wanted him to be mine.

Suddenly, my yearning for him waxed so strong it hurt. Thinking of being with him was like trying to reach up and pull a firework flame down to Earth. He was a bright star...literally, and I was plain old Bella, on an old wooden table in my overgrown backyard, tired from managing two kids and Jake all day. Fiery bursts, one out of the other, for the finale of the fireworks show, mimicked the destruction of the secret hope I'd held in my heart for him. My life was so far removed from him and that would not change any time soon. The death of my secret hope had exploded my heart and left smoldering ashes.

My solitude while everyone was entertained with the fireworks show, was short lived. As soon as the last spark in the sky faded, Billy and Claire were asking for more lemonade and cake. Somehow, the particles from the bonfire Jake has insisted in lighting, even though it was plenty hot already, landed in the lemonade, and I had to make more because Billy refused to drink it with "black specks." As I trudged back into the house to make a new batch of lemonade, I found myself resentful of having to perform the simple chores necessary to care for my family. I'd always taken pride in my ability to care for my family and believed it to be my most important obligation - especially now that I was a parent. Why couldn't I feel the contentment these acts had once brought me?

My feelings of discontent continued to linger in the back of my daily life over the next few months into autumn. I was staying at work later, using the same excuse of "too much to do" to spend an increasing amount of time obsessing over Edward. Jake was angry at my supposed increased workload, but he was still completely unaware of what had transpired in the year that had passed. He wanted me to demand a raise, but I knew I was probably much less productive due to all the daydreaming I was doing about Edward when I should have been working. I just wanted Jake to leave me be.

The anniversary of the time I'd spent with Edward arrived and I "celebrated" by pretending to have the flu so I could stay in bed to wallow in my misery. The one high point was that Edward was all over the media promoting his new film, the very one that had originated the "Beautiful Girl" comments. A small Oscar buzz was building around his performance and I was unbelievably proud of him.

I had to wait a few weeks past the theatrical release to see the film since everyone in the family actually caught the flu, one after the other, starting just before the release date. When I was finally free to go, I told Jake I was going with a couple co-workers so that I could attend on my own.

The film and his role was almost tailor made for Edward with his tendency to gravitate toward characters that were not quite normal. It featured a man who was transforming into a sociopath as he sought revenge on a woman who had broken his heart. I battled tears throughout the whole film, not wanting to miss an instant, but feeling my heartbreak over and over again as I wondered how real the bereft pain that Edward conveyed might be. By the end of the film as he and his female lead lay dying, I could only be thankful that Edward was not the monster that he portrayed. His consistent avowal of his love for me only grew my own secret feelings for him.

In the new year, when the Academy nominations were announced, Edward, and the film he starred in lead the nominations including Best Actor in a Motion Picture and Best Motion Picture. He was in competition against Hollywood veterans like Sean Penn and Viggo Mortensen, but was clearly a front runner. Unsurprisingly, the nomination finally focused attention on his acting abilities and brought a whole new fan base to him. My once exclusive Internet fan communities were flooded with new devotees.

Now, the main theme of the discussions, other than how attractive he, or certain parts of his body were, was speculation about his continued comments about me. He'd announced that his motivation for pursuing the part had been to prove to me that he could live up to my expectations of him as an actor, and that if he could pull this role off, he would somehow be good enough for me. Of course, this set off a frenzy of hate for "Beautiful Girl" and her blind stupidity for not immediately returning to Edward's side.

Eventually, the night of the Oscars arrived. Jake went off to bed early as he often did in anticipation of the long week ahead, with a couple snide parting comments about the "waste of air time" that was the Oscars. I was not terribly interested in the dresses, jewelry or other trappings of the ceremony, but I settled in early so I would miss a second of airtime that included Edward. With a cocktail and some dark chocolate to soothe my nerves, I anxiously awaited Edward's arrival on the live broadcast. My feelings were almost exactly reminiscent of those awaiting the arrival of Jasper (and consequently Edward), at the premiere over a year ago.

All cameras were on him as he stepped from the limousine and helped a lovely woman from the car. I immediately recognized his mother, Elizabeth, a talented actress in her own right, and giggled as the press scrambled to ascertain who this older mystery woman might be. The next thing I recognized was that Edward must have finally been talked into letting a professional dress him for the evening. He was wearing a fitted, dark gray suit that flattered his lean build and fair complexion. The tone of the suit brought out his eyes, creating a clear bright blue in every flash from the photographers' cameras. However, the most surprising change in his attire was his plain, dark dress shoes; a far cry from his standard scuffed hiking boots. He'd been transformed (I wondered how long it had taken them to talk him into it) into the ideal Hollywood leading man for his big night.

I was mostly patient throughout the broadcast, awaiting Edward's award for Best Actor in the second to last presentation of he evening. It was lucky that the camera operator must have been a woman, gay or under very strict instruction, because Edward was featured in every other audience shot in the broadcast. With Jasper sitting next to him in the audience, it was likely the ratings (and the pulses of the female viewers) went higher each time they were shown.

When his category was finally announced, the audience, as usual, erupted into great applause as each of the nominee performances was showcased. After his scene was shown, he looked suddenly shy, like he was just now aware of being on camera. Each of the nominees were captured in a small window on the screen as the announcement of the Best Actor award, was read, each seemingly happy for the other guy, the winner, Edward Cullen.

Edward stood up, almost mechanically, and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek. Jasper grabbed him for a huge hug that threatened to turn into a piggy back ride to the stage. My face was stretched into the widest, silliest smile and tears pricked my eyes as my pride in and joy for him spilled into my physiological responses.

By the time my eyes cleared, he was already approaching the podium in a smooth stride. He politely accepted the statuette from the last year's Best Actress winner as she attempted to give him a kiss and then stepped up to the podium to speak. A stray lock had fallen from his unusually tamed hair and he took a moment to brush it away and then began his speech.

"First let me thank my family and friends. I hope they know how heartfelt my thanks for their continued support is." He looked to where his mother and Jasper were seated and gave a slight smile and nod. "I also want to thank the cast, crew, producers and studio affiliated with the film. I am in your debt for selecting me for a truly superior role, and the dedication with which you all worked to produce this lovely work of cinematic art." The camera panned to several fellow cast and the director before returning to Edward. "Next, I would be remiss if I did not thank the Academy for their recognition. It is an unexpected, but deeply appreciated honor."

At this point in the speech he stopped, looked down and a begowned woman wavered at the edge of the stage, wondering if she should escort him off the stage. But, he held up a finger, signaling just one more minute.

"Lastly, and most importantly, I need to thank the one in my life who has changed me in every way and made this possible. When I met her, the thought that I would be here was incomprehensible. It was her simple faith in me as a man that has allowed me to find the undefinable something I needed."

"Although I miss her deeply..., how can I have anything other than hope for our future."

I dedicate this accolade to you, my Beautiful Girl. I love you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: So, as I'm sure you can all tell, I've never had a beta for this story. I was thinking that it might be good to attempt working with a pre-reader or beta. PM me if you are interested.**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**The Night Marchers**  
**- Jump In The Fire**  
**- Branded**  
**- Who's Lady R U?**  
**- You've Got Nerve **  
**- Open Your Legs**

**The Lovemakers - Love is Dead**  
**Them - Here Comes the Night (EPOV)**  
**Fleetwood Mac - Gold Dust Woman**

**Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page.**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 9

Most women would probably cry, or burst with joy, if their lover dedicated an Oscar award to them on national television.

But not me - I was suddenly incredibly angry.

But, I didn't have the typical reaction - to throw something, scream myself hoarse, or rip at my hair. No, this anger was like an epiphany, a cold realization settling into my heart and head.

I was angry at Edward for persisting in his belief that we would somehow be together, constantly reminding me of his faithfulness and need for me in the media - not picking up his shit and moving on.

I was angry that he was getting an award for his ability to wallow in his misery following our separation and that professionals of the Academy were rewarding his unrequited yearning, self flagellation, temper tantrums, and mildly psychotic episodes. All inspired by me and filmed for art.

I was angry at myself for being so weak, for giving into the temptation of an affair with him. I was angry that I had broken my marriage vows and made myself a liar. I was angry that I had lost the respect of my best and really only friend because of my selfish action.

I was angry at Jake for taking our marriage for granted. He had been so easy to cuckhold, I could probably sleep with someone new each week and he wouldn't see the clues. I was angry that he didn't seem to notice how dissatisfied I was with our sex life - I hadn't even orgasmed with him since I'd been with Edward.

I was angry at my life for being my life. The two children, the mortgage, the daily commute, the early nights in, routine work life. Of course I loved Billy and Claire, but I was angry that I had to give up so much of my personal time and energy to motherhood.

Mostly, I was angry that there was no change in sight. It's not like I could just leave my family to be with Edward. I was angry I could never have Edward, but I'd dealt with it and now it was his turn to do so.

I turned off the television before they even announced the award for Best Motion Picture. I didn't care if his film won or not, it would not change my reality any more than a pretty speech.

For the first time in a while, it was easy to sleep. I didn't lay in bed, fantasizing and unable to sleep, inviting Edward into my dreams. No, I just counted all the voodoo pins I put in everything that pissed me off, Edward included.

Despite the unhappiness I felt with my life, some positive things did happen. First, my anger fueled amazing productivity at work. I got a lot more work done since I stopped "stalking" Edward on the Internet. I did still check his online fan communities periodically, but I no longer spent hours each day focused on him.

I was now fueled by the cadence of my (short kitten) heels, click, click, clicking, against the marble halls of Federal office buildings. Like hobnails of soldiers' boots on pavement, everyone I encountered knew I should be feared. Congressional staffers and opposing lobbyists fell like wood targets to my machine gun arguments. Finally, I'd seen key points of legislation I'd championed for years passed into law. Consequently, I had to push for changes in my organizations to support the new legislation and my machine gun heels worked just as effectively with my colleagues.

The new legislation and reorganization I'd led, really impressed my bosses who gave me a good raise and a bonus at our mid-year review. Jake was thrilled that all my "extra hours" at the office were finally being recognized. I allowed him to show his appreciation by reacquainting him with my orgasm.

That was the second positive change in my life. I'd never felt the need to dominate or even lead in our physical relationship in the past, but I decided to take matters into my own hands – or rather Jake's hands.

"Jake, I want you to lie back on the couch and relax," I requested one evening after I'd gotten home from work early and prepared his favorite dinner. "I want you to be comfortable, because tonight, you are going to reward me for being a good girl."

Jake did as I requested, and I started working open the buttons on his shirt. His chest muscles were toned from lifting heavy bikes at the garage, but not so much that he had extremely defined lines. He was relatively hairless due to his Native American heritage, smooth and warm to the touch. His chest was definitely one of the sexiest parts of him and had always turned me on in the past.

Purposely not thinking of a paler chest covered in soft, dark down, but equally firm and warm beneath my lips - I caressed and kissed each part of Jake as I undressed him.

"Now it's your turn," I smirked at him, lifting my hair away from my neck so he could unzip my dress.

He mimicked my earlier actions, kissing my neck and down my spine as he pulled down the zipper of my dress. I nimbly stepped out of my dress as he kissed around the front of me, peeling my bra away from my body. He sat back on the couch and pulled me into his lap to more easily suck and bite my nipples to attention. His hardness bucked against my bottom, just separated from my heat by the thin fabric of my satiny panties.

"I want you to taste me," I told him, pulling away and lying back against the couch where he had reclined earlier. Following direction, he kissed down my stomach, between my hips and over my pubic mound as he slowly revealed me.

His tongue was tentative at first (it had been a while), but he quickly found his rhythm after a few gentle verbal nudges from me. I let my mind drift off to the last time I found myself in this position - on a hard desk top in a hotel room in LA.

I imagined the cool window pressed against my head and shoulders, my elbows uncomfortable, but unimportant, against the laminate surface. The feathery tips of Edward's hair brushing against my thighs as a pair of fingers stroked in time with the swirl of his tongue. In my mind, Jake's tongue became Edward's, insistently lapping, encouraging, worshipping.

At the thought of Edward's reverent lovemaking, my orgasm ascended swiftly and I screamed Edward's name noiselessly as I felt it spread through me.

Jake slid into me as I was still in that other place, pulling me back to the couch in my living room and him pounding away as usual above me. I gave him a few moans of encouragement that I knew he liked to hear during the act, suddenly just going through the motions of sex. Thankfully, he finished quickly (again, like usual) and _my_ Oscar deserving performance of having enjoyed the post orgasmic hammering was at an end.

"Bella, babe, that was so hot," Jake breathed in my ear.

"Ummm," I hummed back noncommittally. I needed a few minutes to reflect.

Although I'd physically been with Jake, my mind had been with Edward. I wasn't sure if I was able to connect to Jake as my lover anymore. I realized that our sex life in the past was lacking, but it even seemed that my attempts at improvement were destined to fail. I couldn't forget the superiority of Edward as a lover.

It seemed that I was stuck with finding my lover in dreams while I remained the dutiful wife of Jake. We would have one of those marriages where we went through the motions for our children, and even they'd probably eventually become aware of the farce. Just like I'd promised when I left, my heart remained with Edward, but I would exist apart from him and our love.

"Does this mean you are ready to start trying for another kid," Jake asked after a couple minutes of silence. "You seemed very enthusiastic."

"What? Where did that come from?" I asked, "I just wanted sex with my husband." I couldn't believe how incredibly wrong Jake was about the direction of my thoughts. _Did he know me at all?_

When I thought about the idea of having another child my anger flared again. I'd just come to the realization that the children we had now would have to watch their parents exist in a loveless marriage (at least on my part) and now Jake thought we should add another to that mix.

I didn't think I could summon the excitement and joy that the birth of a new child should be accompanied by. As screwed up as I may be, I couldn't do that to a child. I could fake status quo, but I couldn't fake true happiness.

I stood up, searching for my clothes, while shaking my head at a reclining, naked Jake.

"What?" he shrugged, "I thought you were feeling better since you and Angela are friends again," he stated, in reference to the funk I'd been in for months following my trip to LA.

His allusion about my trip to LA and the supposed reason for my funk recalled the most surprisingly positive change in my life since the Oscar speech. I was back in touch with Angela and starting to mend our friendship.

Angela had re-initiated contact to apprise me of an occurrence I had been dreading since leaving LA. Edward called Angela's house one day, asking for Bella Black. When after the Oscars I still hadn't made any attempt to contact him, it seemed that he decided to try a new tactic to reach me.

"Bella, he was calling everyone named Angela in Silver Lake to ask about you," Angela reported. "I denied knowing a Bella." I breathed a silent sigh of relief that Angela still must have cared enough for me to lie.

"Ang, I really appreciate your continued discretion and that you called to let me know. I really have moved on with my life." Recently it really did feel like I had, but this new effort from Edward made it difficult to feel that with conviction. The little hooks that tugged my heartstrings were still firmly in place.

I was surprised it took him so long to try to find me. I figured he would have long since implemented the "alternate plan" and just walked drunkenly around Silver Lake yelling for Bella or Angela.

Thankfully, I used Isabella Swan, my maiden name, for professional purposes and all our personal bills were under Jake's name for tax-purposes related to the motorcycle shop. I doubt anyone but a very good private detective could have found me on the scant information Edward possessed about me. I was also surprised he hadn't marshaled the resources I was sure someone as wealthy and famous as Jasper Whitlock could command, and hired that very good private detective to find me.

"When I said I don't know a Bella, I sort of feel like that wasn't a lie," Angela confessed. "I'm pleased that you've stayed firm to your resolve to cut all contact with Edward and that you have stayed with your family. I don't know if I could have done the same if it was me," she admitted. "I've seen how persistent Edward has been in trying to bring you back to him. You must be quite conflicted."

"Actually," I told her, my anger still fueling my emotions, "I wish he would just move on. It is not good for either of us to dwell on a mistake from the past."

"Well, I guess my initial reaction was… not that I condone what you did… but I thought you were throwing away your family," Angela explained, with more politeness than I deserved. " I guess the place I was at after the divorce with Ben just compounded my feelings. I felt like everything I depended on wasn't what it seemed and the Bella I had come to know would never have done what you did to Jake."

"I know, Ang," I said, "and I'm sorry for shaking your confidence in me. I'm not really sure that I recognize me in those actions either. But I will spend the rest of our friendship trying to rebuild your trust in me. That is if we do still have a friendship..." I said those last few lines in the smallest voice, all the shame I still felt evident.

"I missed you, Ang." I plead.

"I missed you too, Bella," she sighed and with that, she seemed to be able to begin the process to forgive me. We talked for a few more minutes, getting caught up with her life, and then made plans to speak again soon. Within a couple months we were back to weekly calls and frequent texts. Jake was thrilled with the change and my renewed friendship with Angela.

The months flowed by and other than the awareness that my anger simmered under the surface of everything I did, I felt like my life had finally gone back to normal, or at least tolerable. I still was waiting for Edward to show up unexpectedly, but I felt like I would be glad to unleash some of my pent-up bitterness on him if that did happen.

Edward seemed to have taken a hiatus from his acting career after the Oscar. He had one premiere for a film that had wrapped before the Academy Awards, but no new work. Industry insiders couldn't understand why he wasn't using the steam from his award to book one of the new, interesting offers that was reportedly on his plate. But, it seemed that Edward was mainly spending his time going out in the evening in LA.

In particular, he was photographed several times coming from shows at Spaceland. Of course, I knew this meant he was still wallowing, wishing for me. At some point in the summer, the White Lips started a month long residency at Spaceland, and Edward was there for each show (as helpfully Tweeted by some in attendance). At some point, he must have started a friendship with the guys in the band, because one day cell phone video footage of him on stage with them playing a guitar on some new songs was posted. I wasn't too shocked to see the band doing some experimenting - that was the point of a residency, but I was surprised that Edward had forsaken an acting career that was just heating up to pursue his musical ambitions.

I knew he was musical, but I thought it had become a hobby rather than an option. In fact, in several interviews he stated that "actors in bands was a cliché," in obvious disdain for the practice. It was difficult to tell anything about what led to Edward's change of mind over the Internet and he wasn't doing interviews, so I could only conjecture along with his now immense female fan base following his Oscar win.

However, by the fall, Edward was back on a film set making a bigger budget Hollywood film and rumors of him signing on to a couple indie roles were circulating. His short foray into music seemed to have been forgotten.

But, of course, we'd all been too shortsighted in trying to discern his plans. Just before Christmas of that year, the White Lips announced they would be releasing an EP of songs from their residency with Edward Cullen. Edward co-wrote all the songs with the band and they had been secretly recording them in between his busy filming schedule.

However, the EP wasn't even the big news. A tour for the following spring and summer with Edward joining the White Lips was announced for dates all over the U.S. and Europe. They were booked for most of the major music festivals and lots of auditorium and small club dates in between. Of course, a ticket would be held for his Beautiful Girl at every location.

Edward thought he had finally found a lure for the big fish he was hoping to catch.

The anger that had been quietly simmering threatened to boil over when I read that bit of insanity. If Edward believed I would just show up, claim a free ticket (without the notice of the ticket office employee and their Twitter account), so he could pull me up on stage to "romantically" reunite in front of an audience, he was more deluded than I imagined. He could go fish all he wanted; this trophy had no intention of taking the bait.

Oh, but what bait it was. I'd brought the album in every format available – mp3, CD (for my old car stereo) and my favorite, vinyl – and took a sick day so I could be alone in the house for my first listen.

The songs on the EP were absolutely saturated with loss, longing, and anger all underpinned with a sense of great betrayal through the persona of a man tortured by love. The work was filled with imagery of burning in flames, wandering aimlessly in the night, groveling, banging on gates and picking the scabs of a broken heart. A few of the songs seemed to be direct challenges to me, to open myself to him, to follow my instincts instead of my brain, to explain why I had rejected him.

I must have listened to it twenty times, engraining it in my brain. I cried my way through it the first three times, affected just by the sound and nuance of his voice. I wanted to compose a long letter to answer his accusations, to reassure him of my continued love, to help him heal – a process he so obviously was avoiding. But I knew any contact on my part would just add fuel to the fire of his yearning.

His lyrical message, however beautiful and heartfelt, was unanswerable, but that did not stop the lyrics from playing in endless loops through my mind for weeks after my first listen to the tracks - weeks leading up to the date of the White Lips/Edward Cullen tour stop in DC.

A giant red appointment block filled my calendar for the day of the show at the 9:30 Club in DC, just minutes from my home. On that day, I sat at my desk, staring into that field of red until it blurred across my vision. The pull I felt to him was so acute, I'd found my fingernails unconsciously dug into my thighs throughout the day, a physiological attempt to stop my legs from carrying me straight to him.

But, I fought the biological pull, and rode my train home, past the stations that would take me to the club.

Jake pulled me into his orbit as soon as I walked in the door with a quick kiss and hug. But, over his shoulder, I suddenly saw Edward flash onto my television screen. Some entertainment news program had just started following the regular evening news and Edward was one of the featured stories.

"Earth to Bella," Jake whispered in my ear, turning to see what had caught my attention behind him. "Oh, that Eduardo Cullen dude who made the White Lips suck ass." Jake knew I loved the new EP and he enjoyed teasing me about it mercilessly.

"Hey, I liked them before Edward ever even knew they existed," I defended myself, causing a twist in my heart at the memory of that first White lips show I'd shared with Edward. I felt a bit light headed from the rush of nerves I got at discussing Edward nonchalantly with Jake, and stumbled back into his arms.

"Whoa, don't get too excited over him, Bella," he teased, smile wide as he held me supportively in his arms. "Why don't you sit down before you faint and hurt yourself?" Jake was still smiling as he nudged me towards the couch, still completely obvious to my _partiality_to Edward.

"I'm not excited," I prevaricated, "just not feeling the best today." It wasn't a complete lie, I felt fine physiologically, but my soul was torn apart. Like the attraction of two magnets being stronger as they became closer, I was fighting the draw to Edward so hard.

"Is that why you're not going to see them tonight," Jake asked.

"Do I ever get to go out on a week night? I'm a working woman and a mom, no fun for me," I whined back, replaying my standard complaints, even if I knew that my mercurial feelings about Edward were the real drivers for my hesitance to attend the show tonight.

I stretched out on the couch, taking advantage of Jake fussing over me and the absence of the kids until they were called in for dinner. Jake gave me a sweet peck on the forehead and left me on the couch, impatiently awaiting the news story on Edward (which would invariably be aired at the end of the show), to start soup and grilled cheese for dinner since I was "sick."

I only half watched the stories, I wasn't really interested in the latest celebrity fiasco and I couldn't stop my pulse from racing as I waited. The segway to the news story was just a compilation of previous footage of Edward related to the EP and the White Lips tour. I finally relaxed enough to unclasp my hands from the edge of the blanket, thinking it was just another "Edward is on tour somewhere near you" story, when I was hit by a surprise.

"We are at the scene of the latest stop of the White Lips tour and the show for tonight in Washington, D.C. is sold out. Unfortunately, if you are a local and do not have a ticket you are out of luck," the announcer was so perky as she said this, almost mocking those unfortunate individuals. The camera cut away and panned down a long line of people waiting for the doors to open.

"That is, unless you are that one lucky girl - Edward's Beautiful Girl." My heart beat picked up its pace. Why would they be doing this news story in D.C.? Had he found me? Was he going public with my identity? All these thoughts flew through my head as the camera panned back from the interviewer to show her standing next to Edward.

"Do you ever hope that she might show-up unexpectedly at one of the shows?" the intrusive interviewer asked like a predator out for meat.

"I scan every crowd hoping to see her," he answered surprisingly honestly. As he said his he turned his attention away from the reporter to the camera, as if speaking through it directly to me.

He looked so hopeful. His eyes were alight, bright blue with excitement. "I'm here. The past doesn't matter. I just want her to know I am here." His hand had worked its way up to rest over his heart, like a he'd read a pledge. "I love you, Beautiful," he crooned, as he pressed his hand tightly to his chest in a fist, like he was trying to keep his heart anchored to his body.

If his goal was to make a case for my heart, he had it. It was beating so fast, like it was ready to fly across the short miles to his heart, reunite with its missing pieces, and escape in tandem with his. If only I could just levitate along with my heart, fly my way to Edward, and steal him away for a private reunion in the back of a tour bus. _Sorry folks, show's cancelled._

"What a dipshit," Jake opined loudly from right behind me, immediately grounding me.

He'd come into the room and rested his arms across the back of the couch without me even noticing. "He's so whipped, and the girl doesn't even want him. He needs to get a fucking clue."

My fluttering pulse climbed even higher as Jake's comments pissed me off. I realized I'd felt some of the same things Jake had voiced, but I didn't want to hear any criticism of Edward from Jake. I couldn't handle the fact that he was acting like he had to out macho Edward, like a jealous husband, when as far as he knew he had no reason to feel jealous, but in fact he should be irately jealous. It was all too much of a mindfuck.

"Don't judge Jake," I answered much more calmly than I felt. "You don't know 'til you've walked in someone's shoes."

"What's gotten into you," Jake asked, suddenly defensive.

"I feel like hell, remember?" I asked, my voice soft and weary, unable to tap into the cold fire I'd been holding for so many months.

Jake was instantly contrite. "Maybe you should just go to bed. I can bring you tray."

I waved him off as I trudged down the hall to our bedroom. My soul was still torn and my heart was still off flying toward Edward's, but my mind was firmly realistic. I was _not_ going to the White Lips show. There would be _no_ dramatic reunion. I was not _abandoning_my family for Edward. This TV stunt was just that – another immature stunt for my attention.

I stumbled into the bathroom and searched through the medicine cabinet until I found the "nighttime" cold medicine. I promptly swallowed a double dose, hoping that it would start working soon as I crawled into bed. I needed to forget the call of my heart and soul before they teamed up to overpower my mind.

The alarm blared at me way too early in the morning and I was still groggy from the cold medicine. I congratulated myself on sleeping through yet another milestone in my quest to recover from Edward. I was proud that I only cried for five minutes in the shower that next morning and didn't check the Internet for Edward news once at work.

My heart and soul were calm, subdued, numbed, on the train ride back home.

The household was absolute chaos when I arrived. It was raining outside, so the kids had been trapped inside and pulled apart every board game in the house on the living room floor. The kitchen still had pots of cold, skin-covered soup from last night on the stove. Jake was on his computer in the sunroom, obvious to everything.

I just reminded myself that this was what I had chosen, rolled up my sleeves and started making order from the chaos. After everything and everyone was cleaned, fed, and put to bed, I finally sat down next to Jake to ask him how his day had gone.

"Pretty boring - the usual stuff, cleaning out fuel lines and replaced an engine on a little Sportster for someone's girlfriend. Nothing I couldn't handle," he said, flexing his bicep and raising his eyebrows obnoxiously.

"Oh, my big, strong man," I intoned flatly, in obvious sarcasm. "You're like my own personal Mr. Darcy," I joked. Poor Jake had been subjected to my _Pride and Prejudice_fixation for many years now and so he at least knew that Darcy was the hero of the tale.

"Hey, that reminds me of this one weird thing that happened," Jake said. "This dude with a British accent came into the shop. He was looking for an automechanic named Bella." Jake used air quotes for automechanic, taunting the proper British terminology.

My heart skipped a beat, but I tried to school my features to nonchalance. Was Jake just toying with me? Had Edward shown up and revealed everything to him? Was he trying to trap me in a lie?

"That _is_weird," I responded, trying to act as if it was the most normal conversation in the world.

"Stranger still is that, I don't know any other Bellas, so I immediately assumed he was looking for you. But when I showed him your picture - you know, the family picture I keep on my desk - he said no, he must have been mistaken." Jake airquoted the last word too, and I could hear Edward's cultured voice searching for just the right word and carefully pronouncing it – Miss Take In. But maybe it wasn't really Edward, just some other British dude and a truly weird coincidence.

"What did he look like? Maybe I do know him somehow?" I asked, purposely treading into dangerous territory, too curious for more information.

"He just looked like a guy, shorter than me, skinny, with a hoodie and sunglasses. I think he might have had a hat on too. A little like that Edward guy, but more normal looking." Of course Jake would focus on the fact that Edward was shorter than him,… but wasn't everyone, I mean Jake was a freaking giant. The fact that Jake thought it _looked_ like Edward probably meant it _was_Edward.

"Crap," I exclaimed before I could stop my mouth.

"Why is that bad," Jake asked, quirking an eyebrow at me in an unconscious mimicry of my "I'm calling you on your bullshit" facial gesture. My heart beat picked up pace, suddenly realizing that I was so close to being discovered in my adulterous lies. I needed to think of something to cover my mistake, but came up blank.

Fuck, was this what Edward wanted to happen when he'd visited Jake? Did he want my husband to confront me about why Edward Cullen was searching for me? Did he want me to suffer at the hands of my irate husband just to get revenge for leaving him?

Maybe Edward was outside the house right now, standing by the front door trying to get the courage to ring the bell. I could imagine the hard set of his jaw and a guarded, stricken look in his eyes as I opened the door to him, Jake hovering in the background. My heart beat furiously at the thought of my lies exposed. And at the thought of allowing myself to touch Edward again, although disguised as an attempt to soothe his anger and prevent harm to Jake.

I'd almost forgotten Jake had asked me something.

"Um…, I…, Ummm, I was thinking about something I forgot to do at work," I sputtered from out of the blue. "What did you say he looked like?" I asked, pretending I hadn't heard him the first time.

Jake huffed in annoyance at me and reiterated his description. This time I was able to shrug my shoulders in a nonchalant gesture and Jake let the matter drop as he moved on to his favorite subject – bitching about Embry.

Slowly my heartbeat calmed as I half listened to Jake's tirade, relieved that I'd dodged the bullet yet again. Hopefully, Jake would let it pass at that and wouldn't bring it up later.

Unfortunately, my paranoia about Jake's suspicions, and Edward's whereabouts and possible reappearance made it impossible to sleep that night. I kept expecting to hear my Stranger drunkenly yelling for me throughout the neighborhood, but all I heard was the disappointing silence.

**AN: I resisted actually ascribing a particular band or song(s) to Edward's musical tribute/message to Bella, but The Night Marchers tunes completely capture the feeling of love gone wrong AND most of those selected are addressed to the do'er of the wrong. They really capture the love wrought, accusatory tone I think Edward would feel at this point. I hope you do check them out!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Waiting on a Friend: Chapter 10**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**AN: Obviously, I am very late at posting this. It was very hard to write some of the more depressing aspects of this chapter and so I guess I practiced a psychological phenomena of my own – avoidance. Plus, I had some RL stuff to do and writing time just didn't mesh well…I'm trying to finish in a timely manner, but we will see how that goes, but thankfully work on next 2 chapters has started.**

**Playlist for this chapter:**

**Patsy****Cline**** – ****She****'****s****Got****You**

**Noah and the Whale – Stranger (EPOV)**

**Arcade Fire – Rebellion (Lies)**

**First Aid Kit – Ghost Town **

**The Lovemakers – Falling Apart**

**Links****to****my****WIP****playlists****and****a****banner****for****this****story****are****on****my****profile****page.**

Chapter 10

As I moved through my routine the next day, I felt a strange sense of anticipation, like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Jake still seemed totally unaware of the identity of his visitor and the panic I'd felt during our conversation, but he _could_ have an epiphany at any moment.

I eyed my cell phone like a ticking bomb.

I also kept looking over my shoulder for Edward, paranoid like the previous evening. If he had been able to find Jake's place of business, he probably had some private investigator find my work address as well. I expected him to walk into my office at any minute and I didn't know if I was more elated about the possibility of touching him again or terrified of having to face him.

However, when the shoe did drop, it was not in the manner I expected.

In the excitement over Edward's visit to the garage, I'd almost forgotten about the White Lips show I'd skipped the other night and I hadn't logged on to any of the fan sites to see the latest reviews and photos. My guilty pleasure was ogling photos of Edward onstage – hair clumped in dripping locks and t-shirt plastered to his chest by the sweat pouring off him. Every new photo reminded me that once upon a time in a LA hotel room, the thought of a wet, naked Edward had broken my resolve.

The search for the news from each show also had kept me very current with Edward's schedule as he had travelled closer to me. From the online calendar, I'd known the band had a few free days following the DC show before some dates in North Carolina (most likely at Edward's request if he knew I was in the area) so the show I missed should have been the last big fan news. But, when I checked during lunch, the DC show reviews were buried under the events that had unfolded since then.

Edward had been seen all over Washington DC in the company of beautiful, leggy blond the night before. Everyone assumed that his Beautiful Girl had been revealed and they all wanted to know every detail about her.

Tanya.

Her name was Tanya Denali.

She was a trust-fund, socialite from New York with a passion for bad boys. She'd dated a couple slightly well-known musicians and had an MFA from Columbia. Those were the only concrete details although speculation was rampant.

Photos of them together at the New York and Philadelphia shows also surfaced just after the DC photos. The New York and Philadelphia show photos were obviously taken from personal cell phones. One or two of the images were taken from backstage.

Tanya probably leaked them herself.

The DC photos were standard paparazzi images with Tanya and Edward partially attempting to conceal their faces as they ducked into cabs outside of a few different nightclubs. Some of the guys from the White Lips and some unidentified women seemed to be with them, but Edward and Tanya were obviously together. His lips formed a pout, eyes drowsy slits and his dark locks were splayed carelessly across those lazy eyes. He seemed drunk, but still aware of the cameras, although he had his arm around her in one shot - an amateurish mistake for someone with experience hiding personal details from cameras.

Edward was no amateur.

He _wanted_ everyone to know he was with Tanya.

_Please__let__them__not__be__together_, I thought, but all evidence seemed to support the fact that they were. Some comments on the photos even hinted that they had known each other for years.

Out of all the most emotional moments over the past couple years since leaving Edward – hearing his pleas over the phone, my first time having sex with Jake after returning home, the Oscar speech, my first time listening to his album, and even yesterday when he had appeared at Jake's shop – this was the one that finally seemed to settle into my gut.

Edward had moved on.

He was now Tanya's.

I was no longer his future.

I was a memory and all I had of him were my memories.

My memories, his photos (and video interviews, films and music files) on the Internet, and the many other, more personal things that recalled him to me - vinyl records, chai tea, diners, red convertibles, stone walls, ocean waves…

As I thought about each of those things, it felt like a dark wave had risen over me and the surf filled my ears until all I could hear was the uneven pounding of my heart – first fast, in flight response, then slow, like a heart beating its last.

My breath was labored, drowning, gasps to hold back the sobs.

On the edge of hyperventilating, I worked to slow my breathing and eventually subsided to numb.

I was empty, nothing, without Edward out in the world, somewhere, loving me back.

Rationally, I realized this was untrue. I had a marriage, children, a fulfilling career, good friends, a beautiful home. From the outside I had a great life. But I couldn't find anything worthwhile in it, unless I had his love.

I couldn't see a way to continue with life.

I don't know how long I sat at my desk, unseeing, but eventually the ever present sound of office life began to seep back into my consciousness. I got my things together and headed off to the train, still numb, but functional.

Several days passed with me in the same state. Jake was mildly concerned, but I passed it off as a mild cold. Somehow I managed to drag myself to and from work each day, but not much more.

A few days later, during my afternoon commute, I let my head rest against the window of the train, foregoing my usual Blackberry time. I couldn't even put the effort into deleting spam.

Without intending to, I found myself eavesdropping on the conversation of a young man and an older woman seated behind me.

"I'm so proud of you," she said to him, the proclaimed emotion jacketing her tone. "I know you'll do great this summer."

"You act like this is the first time I've been away from home," the boy replied, with typical teenage complaint.

"It's not the first," his mother agreed, "but it will be the last. After this summer you're just home for a few days and then off to the University. No more sending you off to summer camp."

"You know what they say, if you love someone set them free," the boy teased back, clearly excited by his impending freedom.

"I do love you, kiddo," she replied, chocking back a bit of a sob.

"Maaahhhmmm," the son whined, clearly embarrassed by the emotional public display. He was saved just moments later by the arrival of the Metro train at their stop.

I bit back a smile as they passed, not wanting to further embarrass the son with the knowledge that someone had overheard his mother's declaration.

As I marveled at the fact that I was actually smiling, the words of the admonishment, "set them free" played in my mind.

It was so simple… if I loved Edward, I would set him free.

All of the sudden, I recognized how ridiculous I'd been to be angry at him for not moving on, when I hadn't ever really wanted him to. I'd held onto his love for me so tightly, always expecting it to be a small, secret, coveted part of my life.

But, I hadn't really been able to move on while trying to hold onto that love.

Now that Edward really seemed to have been able to move beyond the past, maybe it was time for me as well.

I would forget my love for Edward if it meant that he could be happy with someone else. I know that he couldn't actually _know_ of my resolution, but I just felt that he would somehow understand that I had freed him to follow love again.

Keeping my resolution to let go of Edward was easier said than done. I'd decided that I needed a clean break, so I stopped going to all my usual Internet hang-outs to obsess. No more fan communities, fan fiction, e-mail alerts, Twitter – I stopped it all. I probably thought about the mom from the train 50 times a day, wondering if she had to stop herself from calling or e-mailing to check on her son every ten minutes. I wished they had a support group for people trying to let go of the ones they love most.

It was very hard work trying not to think about Edward, what he might be doing, how he and Tanya were spending their time together, what they did alone, together… at night. Ungh.

I wasn't allowing myself to look for any of the images I knew would be out there of them, captured by paparazzi in the airport or happily cavorting around major cities of the world. My imagination was bad enough without photographic evidence.

I was so unmotivated to do anything other than focus on trying not to think about Edward that had to give myself little incentives to accomplish anything else. I started letting myself have little "happy thoughts" of Edward to get through the day.

Finish report at work and Edward would do something to make Tanya smile.

Do the dishes and spend five minutes remembering our moments on the beach.

Put the kids to bed without yelling and Tanya buys Edward that new book he wanted to read.

Have sex with Jake and Edward gets lucky too. Ungh.

After about three weeks, I knew I was fucked.

My previous energy to conquer every task was now spent just trying to get up the enthusiasm to accomplish necessary tasks…and the reward of thoughts of Edward for those few moments I allowed myself.

"Bella, do we have any more cereal in the pantry?" Jake yelled at me one morning as I was hitting the snooze on the alarm for the third time.

"I have no idea," I yelled back, pissed that my nine more minutes were being interrupted.

"Did you buy more the last time you went to the store?" he yelled back again, undaunted by my bitchy tone. I couldn't remember my last trip to the grocery store. I vaguely remembered a quick trip a few weeks past, but not the details of what I actually purchased. I stayed silent until I heard his cursing cease as he slammed out the door.

I wasn't sleeping much. I was staying up late working on chores I sped through in the past. Then I would lie awake considering what Edward was doing at that exact moment… finishing a glass of wine after a romantic dinner, watching a movie while cuddling with Tanya, or maybe conceiving his first child.

This lead to trying to catch a few extra minutes in the morning, tardiness at school and work, and exhaustion the next day.

As months passed, I cared less and less about making sure I did what was needed. The state of my housekeeping had deteriorated to the point that we had to clean dirty dishes before each meal and the kids often wore dirty clothes to school since I couldn't be troubled to bother with the laundry. Jake had given up on asking me to do anything.

"Do you think Mommy is dying," I heard Claire whisper to Billy one day from outside my bedroom door. I was lying in bed, half asleep, as was most recent habit when I was not at work. I'd gotten sick of being exhausted and now spent most of my free time sleeping, and hoping for dreams of Edward. Once every few weeks I would have vivid dreams of being with him, either slight variations on the time we had spent together, or recreations of daydreams were I was Tanya. I lived for those dreams where being happy was effortless.

"Come away guys," I heard Jake whisper to the kids. "Mommy needs her rest. She's feeling sick lately."

"Will we get sick too?" Claire whispered back loudly.

"No," I heard Jake say, followed my something I couldn't hear as they all moved down the hall, away from the bedroom door.

"Hooray! McDonalds," I heard shouted a few moments later, relieved that I would be left to myself and my imagined or real dreams of Edward.

I tortured myself endlessly, but I knew that it was no more than I deserved. I'd chosen this course in life and there was no way to change now. Edward had started a new life with Tanya, and soon there would be a little Edward or a little Tanya. He would be happy and complete without me and I would fade into the back of his mind and then be gone.

Now my goal was to finish raising my family and then I would let go of all I held onto in this life, and hope for it would be enough that I would earn just one last moment with him, in this world or the next.

"Bella, you need help." Jake was pleading, kneeling on the floor, his face next to mine as tears slowly, but continually streamed down my face into the pillow.

I had no reply. I knew I did need help. If only so I could be functional for my family, but I didn't deserve it. I deserved to suffer, deeply.

I didn't understand why Jake was still here, trying. I was a horrible wife. I didn't contribute to the upkeep of the family anymore, other than the fact that my paycheck kept arriving in the bank account. And that was sure to end sometime soon.

I had taken a vacation from work, my first since the trip to LA years ago. Of course, I had taken a day here and there to deal with appointments or an occasional three day weekend, but I hadn't taken any extended time away.

I didn't trust myself away from my real life…, _especially_ on vacation. Where I could be tempted to maybe indulge in another affair and maybe that would prove that the problem was that I was fucked-up and couldn't be happy in my life, not that I had some deeper connection to Edward…, just a pathological need to kill my own happiness that had driven me to cheat in the first place.

But, the decision was now out of my hands. Last week my boss had approached me about taking a few weeks of leave. It wasn't really a request as much as a demand. My performance had started to slip and she was worried that I was too stressed-out. Thankfully, my stellar performance in the past had given me lots of leeway, but it couldn't last forever. I knew they expected me to return to work after my three weeks, refreshed and ready to tackle the next Congressional session.

But I wasn't sure that I would ever be able to return. All I'd been able to do in the past four days off was lay in bed and cry. I wasn't even sure what I was crying for anymore. I knew Edward was beyond my reach and I had my life to finish getting through. But, how I would do that, I have no idea.

After my moment of introspection, Jake was still looking at me, waiting for a response to his statement.

I was finally ready to admit it. I nodded my head, acknowledging that I did need help.

"Can you get dressed and I'll take you to the doctor's office?" Jake cooed, petting my hair back from my face. I glanced at the clock over his shoulder, realizing that he would normally be at the garage by now. He must really be worried if he wasn't at the garage.

I pulled myself from bed, took a quick shower, and pulled on some sweats. Jake had a hot cup of chai waiting for me when I walked into the kitchen and he kept his arm around my waist as we walked out to the car.

Our family doctor immediately gave me a recommendation for a psychiatrist when I admitted that I had considered suicide and was able to get me an appointment at a colleague's office that afternoon.

After making sure I ate something at a diner en route, Jake shepherded me into the cozy waiting room. I didn't know what I expected; maybe something like pale green walls and industrial hospital décor, but it wasn't neutral-toned, overstuffed couches and modern art. I was instantly at ease, even though still terrified of actually speaking to the doctor. I gave Jake a tentative smile that he returned with a bright beaming one and a kiss to my forehead.

When my name was called, I went into the office alone, leaving Jake browsing an automotive magazine in the waiting room. As the nurse lead me into the room, I was surprised again. I was expecting a stark, clinical setting, like a doctor's exam room, but this was more like a business office. The woman behind the desk stood as I entered and introduced herself as Dr. Gerandy. She was shorter than me and gray haired with a kind, round face. I took a seat on yet another cozy chair, next to a table littered with photos of cats and grandchildren, and started talking about me.

By the end of our hour, we'd made a plan. I hadn't divulged any details, or Edward's name, but she knew that I had cheated in the past and was struggling with the aftermath. Due to the severity of my symptoms, she started me on a mood stabilizer immediately and had me voluntarily admitted to an inpatient treatment center for a week. After that time, if the doctors at the inpatient treatment center thought I was progressing, I would start a daily outpatient treatment regimen.

This allowed me to focus on getting better within the time I had scheduled away from work, and not be away from Jake and the kids very long. In light of my prior behavior, my absence from the house for inpatient treatment was not a big change in the daily routine.

Jake held me gently in his arms, when I collapsed into him after walking out of the office.

"Shhhh, it's okay Bella, baby. Don't cry. You are doing so good," he stroked my back, just like I did for Billy and Claire when they were ill, instantly calming me.

"I'm going away for a week," I sobbed at him, burying my tears and dripping nose into the soft t-shirt over his firm, warm chest. "So I can get better."

"It's okay, it's good, it'll get better," Jake chanted softly to me. He swung me up against him and settled back into the couch, repeating his affirmations until my sobs dwindled to tears and then just loud breathing.

We quietly departed the office, none of the other patients or staff surprised to see a woman bawling in the waiting room, and headed to the house to pack a bag for my outpatient visit. I left short notes to both the kids promising to see them soon and off we went.

Jake stayed long enough to help me get registered and to give me a sweet goodbye kiss. I could call him once a day, but I wouldn't see him until he returned to pick me up in a week.

Inpatient treatment was not as bad as I expected. I was assigned to a shared room, but the center was under filled so I didn't have a roommate during my stay. I worked with a couple of psychiatrists during the course of my stay and attended group therapy for women suffering from depression. I tried to be as open as possible while maintaining Edward's privacy, so I referred to him as my lover and no one pushed me to identify him.

Thankfully, they were all much more focused on my immediate well-being than the details of the affair.

After a few days, I could feel the medicine helping me control my mood. Everything felt just a little bit removed from me, but I felt that numb was better than the deeply painful emotions I had been unsuccessfully trying to work through on my own. At the end of the week, I was pronounced ready to be released with a recommendation that I continue with daily therapy to help me begin the process of dealing with the emotional trauma I'd endured over the past few years.

Once I returned home, I began visiting with Dr. Gerandy every day before I headed to work. Eventually, as my trust built in Dr. Gerandy, I let her in on the secret of Edward's identity. She was only person, beside Angela, to which I had admitted it.

"Bella, why don't we discuss some of the reasons why you are finding it difficult to move past your infidelity? In the past you have spoken of inescapable reminders. Can you explore that further?" Dr. Gerandy looked at me expectantly, waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts. She had reassured me on several occasions that anything we discussed was strictly confidential.

"Do you know who Edward Cullen is?" I asked, watching her closely to gauge her reaction.

"The name is vaguely familiar," she responded, introspection and curiosity alight in her eyes. Most women knew who he was, but she was a bit older than his "core demographic" and rarely made any pop culture references in our conversations, so I could believe that she might not know.

"He won an Academy Award a couple years ago," I prompted, imagining that she might have recalled him from that memorable speech.

"Oh, yes, played a rather disturbed young man in a small budget film, pale with dark hair?" she asked in confirmation. I nodded and grinned slightly hearing him described this way.

Disturbed and pale, indeed.

"And continue, dear," she prompted, completely missing my attempt at confessing. But I was not surprised. It had never made sense for Edward to want me and I'm sure she wouldn't consider him as a possible candidate for my lover.

"It's him," I blurted out, before I could lose my nerve. "Edward Cullen, is, um I mean, _was_, my lover." Somehow I thought that the moment I was able to say that out loud, would be the moment I was able to move past him. But it wasn't. In fact, I felt rather dishonorable calling him my lover. Lover implied some sort of fling or casual relationship. He wasn't my lover. He was the other half of my soul.

"Oh, ooohhh," Dr. Gerandy exclaimed softly. All those missing pieces of my story and why I was reminded of him so often suddenly clicked into place for her. "I do remember something about a mystery woman now…" she trailed off, realizing this situation was much more unusual than she had first believed.

"Why don't you tell me how you met him?" she asked kindly, and so I began recounting our tale, speaking for the rest of my session and most of the next until I reached the point where I had become incapacitated by my depression. Dr. Gerandy interrupted frequently during my retelling for clarification or to gain my impression of a certain event, so that by the end of the story, I felt that I had spilled every significant detail.

Following the confession, we decided to track the amount of time I spent thinking about Edward every day. It was a bit like a diet plan where you track calories consumed, but I was tracking,…_Edwards_. A new unit of measurement where I tracked everything related to Edward, stray thoughts, memories, information from the Internet, even glimpses of him on the magazines at the grocery store. I did find that this technique helped me focus on getting other things done. If I counted, I tended to limit or allow a set amount of time to him and I was able to focus on work and my family during the other parts of the day.

Eventually, my visits with Dr. Gerandy decreased to three times a week since I was making progress on controlling the amount of (yummy) Edwards I consumed. But, nothing else seemed to be able to fill in the hole left in my soul and I knew I would have to start figuring out if that hole could ever be mended or if I was on the Edward diet for life.

When I explained this doubt to Dr. Gerandy, she acquainted me with the work of a man named William Worden, a Harvard psychologist, which detailed the "tasks of mourning." According to Worden, one must accomplish these tasks in any order to complete the mourning process:

_Task 1: Accepting the reality of the loss._

_Task 2: To work through the pain of grief._

_Task 3: To adjust to an environment in which the deceased is missing._

_Task 4: To emotionally relocate the deceased and move on with life._

The more we discussed this theory, the more I was able to see how my past action involved avoiding this process and had lead me to debilitating grief, and how my I could work through this process and regain my life.

For the first time, I realized that I hadn't ever "mourned" the loss of Edward. I had attempted to cling to the idea that I hadn't lost him, but that he was still there for me and someday, in some nebulous future we would be together again.

And when the day finally came that I was confronted with contradictory evidence, evidence that he was not waiting for me but had moved on with Tanya, I was unable to subconsciously rationalize the belief that we would still be together. I lost hope and began the process of becoming a numb, sniveling ball.

But, now I had found hope. Dr. Gerandy and I discussed any "progress" I might have made on any of the steps, brainstormed possible ways I might accomplish each of the tasks and set goals for their completion. I finally felt like I might have a path to if not a happy life, at least a content existence.

Since Edward had not died, but was still lost to me in most ways, we did have to modify the process to my special conditions.

"Bella, do you truly believe that Edward will not be a part of your life again?" Dr. Gerandy asked me a couple of sessions into the process.

I wasn't quite sure how to answer at first, because I was still on my "Edward diet" and sometimes felt like he did still have a tangible place in my life. But the more I thought, I began to see that everything I now had of Edward wasn't actually an authentic piece of him, just modified bit seen through the lens, a microphone, or a spokesperson. The Edward that had touched my soul was no longer in my life. And he never would be again.

I was honestly able to answer yes and felt the pride of accomplishment in meeting that first task. The wide beaming smile on my face even elicited a giggle in response from Dr. Gerandy.

After meeting the first task, I found the next two were easy to accomplish in comparison. I had been though every type of emotional pain during and after my separation from Edward. I felt like I had been riding the rollercoaster of that emotion for years and I was ready to get off.

I'd actually done a fairly good job in readjusting to my real life considering my emotional anguish. Now that I had a healthy way to deal with those feelings, my home and work life returned to what pre-Edward Bella would have recognized as normal.

Well, almost normal, except for one thing, the thing that was keeping me from completing that last task of mourning._Emotionally__relocate__the__deceased__and__move__on__with__life._

I needed to re-devote energy from Edward to someone/something else in my life. Logically, the feelings I had for Edward should have rightfully belonged to Jake, at least that was how I saw it. But, I seemed to be unable to consciously transfer those feelings from one man to another.

Dr. Gerandy and I were working on techniques to help me use less of my time to think of Edward and more to focus on Jake. I had gone cold turkey off Edward in an attempt to force another outlet for that energy. I didn't have to spend time "stalking" Jake on the Internet the way I did Edward because I lived with him, but I did try to occasionally comment on his Facebook or send him a text message.

But, I was beginning to realize that my feelings for Jake were never going to be as strong as those I had for Edward. Being with Jake was easy and expected, but not exciting and passionate. And not just since he had become my husband, but before that.

I hadn't dated much in high school or college, certainly not seriously. And once Jake made his grand gesture of moving to DC to be with me, it felt like he was the only choice I could've made. I'd always found Jake attractive, kind and caring, responsible and optimistic, but a bit lacking in the brains department. But, I had my work and Angela if I wanted to discuss art, literature or politics. I tried not to let the fact that my husband was a stereotypical male lover of loud music, action films, big engines and grade school humor bother me. It was typical battle of the sexes issues, not anything dealbreaking.

But, I wanted the effortless rapport Edward and I had on almost every topic. Maybe we didn't agree on everything, like our specific taste in music or literature, but we were both interested in the opinion of the other.

And of course there was just that special something between Edward and I that had never existed between Jake and me. I wasn't sure if I could ever find it with anyone else, but for the first time in my life, I found myself wondering if I should have dated more before settling down with Jake. I knew I might never find that spark again in my life, but I knew that I never had it with Jake.

I began to see that the reason I couldn't transfer my feelings from Edward to the other man in my life. It was the old square peg, round hole metaphor – they were just two different things.

However, I was successful in spreading my reclaimed energy to others – my children. Like desert plants after a drought, Billy and Claire soaked up every bit of extra attention I gave them. Their relief was palpable when I returned from the in-patient treatment; especially after I assumed them I'd been checked by _gazillion_ different doctors and was _getting__all__better_. I was back to maintaining the household, including doing the laundry and stocking the pantry. Favorite treats and a warm dinner seemed to reassure them more than any words.

And I made efforts to plan activities for the kids and I on the weekends. We did every art and craft project I could dream up, went swimming and visited an amusement park, we went to the zoo and even ventured up to Baltimore for the aquarium.

Of course, my mind still strayed to thoughts of Edward, but I was still avoiding all the online and print media devoted to him specifically, or film and celebrity in general. Thankfully, Edward had been busy in Hollywood, so my music habits were generally safe. I just dutifully recorded the occasional stray Edward thought in my "diet log" and attempted to refocus my thoughts.

One morning Dr. Gerandy was detained on her way to the office, so I had a few minutes to kill in the waiting room. My Blackberry had poor reception, so I decided to grab one of the magazines from the rack. As I scanned the titles, nothing really appealed to me. All the Time and Newsweek magazines that I might have enjoyed seemed to be missing and I definitely wasn't picking up Car and Driver with all the automotive talk I had to listen to on a daily basis from Jake. So celebrity gossip it was.

But, I wasn't prepared for the cover and nearly dropped the magazine before I finished removing it from its slot.

Edward, with his arms around Tanya, smiled at out at me. Edward and Tanya in bridal attire. Edward and Tanya, _married_.

Suddenly, the world tilted on it axis and I had to grab the dowel on the magazine rack to keep my balance. I let go of the magazine and watched the horrifying images slide back out of sight.

I almost left it there in the slot, but then I realized that this was why I was HERE. This was what I had come to therapy to be able to deal with. If I left it there in the rack, I might as well give up. I needed to confront the worst, so I could process it and get better. So I deliberately pulled the magazine from the slot and determined to read the whole thing, even if it cut into my session time.

The article was much like I expected. Details of the lavish event, star-studded guest list and fluffy little "facts" about the couple. I already knew the content of the article, but the images told me the real story.

He was smiling in all the photographs, but his eyes were unfocused, gazing off into the distance. It was seeing those images that I finally realized this was all just an act, and he was a very good actor. To anybody but those who hadn't seen the way his face could transform in love, he looked like any happy groom might. Each tender gesture towards his bride, candid laugh, forbearing action of wedding ritual was an elaborate charade. The radiant smile was missing and his eyes were focused beyond the camera, maybe with the hope of seeing someone there - me.

I immediately wondered if I was delusional, trying to deny that Edward had moved on, but some instinct urged me to believe he still missed me – if only for that one day. I hunted through the article for any clues about his mental state, but was only gasping at skeletal details. Could the "quaint guest cabin on their estate that Edward likes to use as a private escape" be a symptom of an unhappy man?

Dr. Gerandy seemed unsurprised when I carried the magazine into my session and I wondered if the delay and missing news magazines were somehow not coincidental, but I had to admit, it was probably the safest way for me to process this new information about Edward - immediate therapy. I was actually quite calm during the session, although I did not voice my instinctual feeling to Dr. Gerandy.

Over the course of the day, I found my thoughts straying often to Edward's new marriage, like once I gave myself permission to "go there," I couldn't leave.

I kept finding myself thinking about how Tanya must feel. Tanya, the poor little rich girl, who had finally landed her man, to find his heart was already taken. I tried to image how I would feel if Jake had feelings for another woman, like I did for Edward and suddenly I realized that Jake was the one getting screwed in this situation. I knew in my true heart that I could not continue to do that to Jake.

I'd failed over the past few months of trying to give more of myself to Jake. That part of my heart just wasn't there to give. And it wasn't fair to him.

And with that sudden realization, came my pathway to meeting the fourth task. I couldn't give that part of my heart to anyone. It only belonged to Edward, and would remain as embers in me forever. I could squeeze it to a small sliver by filling my heart with other kinds of love, for children and friends; but never redirect it.

My relationship with Jake would have to change from husband to ex. I didn't want Jake to stay with a spouse that couldn't return his love; that faked her way through. My wonderful Jake deserved more than put on smiles and eyes constantly searching for my missing sliver of heart.

I would be almost all the way recovered. I would work to make the sliver so small that no one but me, when I dreamt in the darkest part of the night, would ever know it still existed. Jake and I would figure out how to make our family work as a divorced couple and I would give my all the rest of my love to those around me.

When I arrived home that night, I was glowing with anticipation. I couldn't even summon the sadness I knew most people felt at the dissolution of a marriage.

"Jake, I have an announcement," I almost sang, a grin stretching across my face.

"Should I call the kids?" he asked, as a reply grin snuck onto his face. "Or is it just for me?" he whispered suggestively, breathe warm against my ear.

"After bedtime," I said in a neutral tone, realizing he expected good news, maybe actually expected the opposite of what I was planning. I realized that my recovery probably gave him false hope these past few months.

Suddenly, the confidence I had previously evaporated. I knew this would destroy him. I made it through dinner with a false smile plastered on my face, ignoring the questioning glances Jake gave me in an attempt for silent communication.

Once the kids were asleep and the kitchen back in order, I pulled Jake on to the living room couch for our discussion. I slowly stroked his hand, cataloguing the calluses, scars and ingrained grease stains. I would probably never be able to touch him like this again.

I took a deep breath, willed the tears away, and tried to speak, but the only noise I could produce was a soft croak of his name.

His immediately pulled me to him, into his secure hold, soothing me with soft whispers.

"Jake," I whispered against his chest, unsure if he could hear me, "you wouldn't be so good to me if you knew what I was about to say."

"You can tell me anything, Bella baby. You know that," he said softly, coaxing me. I wound my fingers tighter again his with a soft squeeze and got his back in reassurance.

"I'm not good for you Jake," I told him, finally looking at his eyes. His skepticism was obvious, and I felt his chest rise as he took in a breath to speak. I stopped him before he could offer more of his understanding I did not deserve.

"I want a divorce," I stated firmly before my courage fled for the promise of his comfort.

"What?, No baby, you're just going through a rough patch. The therapy is helping, right?" he plead and leaned in to take me in his arms again. I moved further away along the couch, trying to stay firm in my resolve.

"This _is_ the therapy, Jake. I realize how terribly I've treated you and I know it's not fair. You deserve a woman who can love you better than I do," I was sobbing by the end, something I hadn't wanted to do, but had to choice about.

"Then stop going to the therapy, increase the dosage of your anti-depressant," he countered, desperate to find a way to change the course of the conversation.

"It doesn't matter. I've come to the realization that I've never loved and never will love you like you deserve. You deserve a whole heart, not a broken one."

"What does that mean that you don't love me like I deserve?" he asked, airquoting the last part of the statement.

How could I explain it without being cruel? I hated the idea of hurting my sweet Jake, even though I knew I would have to so he would let me go.

"It means that I've always loved you as a person, just not as… not as a wife should love her husband." I choked on that last word, my body already rejecting any comfort I had always taken from Jake.

"Fuck Bella, what are you trying to tell me? Have I done something wrong? Are you gay? Fuck, are you gay?" the expression of Jake's face was so incredulous as he tried to make sense out of my statement, tried to find any signs in our sex life that might have supported that conclusion. I almost laughed at the absurdity. No it was definitely not the love of women, but that of one too many men that troubled me.

No, no, I'm not gay," I reassured Jake, trying to find the courage to tell him the real, horrible truth. "I just came to realize that I could never love you with my whole heart, not the way a man should be loved by his wife, wholeheartedly."

"What, so you just fell out of love with me, is that it? Were you every in love with me at all," he all but howled at me in pain.

"Yes, at one point I at least thought I was, Jake. I never would have married you if I hadn't though so," I tried to explain, still skirting around the truth.

"What did I do wrong, Bella. I've tried everything to make you happy. Do you want me to get an office job. Is that it? Are you ashamed of your blue-collar husband?" The anger started creeping into his voice as he tried to work out where we had gone wrong. I was glad. He should be mad at me. I'd been a coward on my return from LA, believing I could keep the affair a secret forever. Now I was learning the hard way what that kind of secret could do over time.

"Jake, Jake, shhh," I tried to calm him so he would listen to me. "It me, this is my fault," I declared, my head hanging in my hands. I took a second and then look right in his eyes so he would know I was not lying.

"I cheated."

"Cheated," exploded back from him in loud confusion. "Fuck, you slept with some other dude, Bella? What, now you're in love with him?" Jake had stood up and now towered over me, huddled miserably on the couch.

"Shhh," I whispered loudly, motioning down the hallway to where the kids were sleeping. Jake immediately calmed a bit and I was glad to be able to use the excuse of the kids to keep this conversation from escalating out of control.

Jake sat down on the other end of the couch, his head in his hands, cussing softly under his breath. His body form a crooked, tense line like folded metal twisted into a man.

I didn't know what to do to make the situation better and I knew that I really couldn't do anything. This was gonna suck for both of us.

"I'm sorry," I whispered gently to him, not daring to touch him.

"Is it still going on," he gritted out from behind his hands, his face still shielded from me.

"No," I said truthfully, "it was just a onetime thing." Technically_it_ had been several times, but for this discussion all Jake needed to know was that it was now over.

"When," he asked, finally making eye contact. His cheeks were wet and eyes still glassy, but his mouth was firmly set.

_LA_ was all I had to say to earn a curt nod. He stood and paced over to the mantle, sweeping a family portrait we'd had taken a couple years ago to the floor.

I cringed at the noise of the glass and frame shattering, and looked over my shoulder back down the hall to the bedrooms. We were both quiet, listening for a cry from one of our children, but all was silent.

"I guess that explains you and Angela," Jake conjectured, his chin rising defiantly as I nodded in acknowledgement.

"Who else knows?" he asked, the firmness of his tone finally cracking on that last word. I was horrified at the notion that Jake thought I'd told anyone, that I was making a fool of him behind his back.

"No, no one, else, Jake… well, other than the therapist. Angela found out on her own. I'm ashamed, it's not like I would _tell_ people. I would never…" my voice trailed off as Jake's expression became stormier.

"But you did, Bella. Don't say you would never betray me, because you did."

The tears I'd been holding back finally broke as the shame flooded through me.

"I have to leave. I just can't deal with this here, with you right now. I'm gonna sleep at the shop." He strode down the hallway, I assumed to grab a few items that he would need for the next day. I stayed put on the couch, not wanting to cause any further troubles for Jake.

He was blameless in this whole situation. In fact he was more than blameless, he'd shown me time and again how much he loved and cared for my wellbeing and our family.

I was the fucking monster here.

**AN:****I****completely****realize****why****Stephenie****Meyer****left****those****blank****pages****in****New****Moon.****It****is****so****difficult****to****write****a****character****that****had****been****completely****overcome****by****depression.****They****don****'****t****talk****to****anyone,****do****anything,****and****try****not****to****have****conversations****…****not****much****to****write.****So****obviously****this****took****and****long****time****to****finish****and****I****'****m****sorry****about****the****waiting****time****between****updates.**

**Not being in the psychology field or having much knowledge of grief counseling and therapy I found the follow-up works to be of interest: **

**Grief, Healing and the One-to-Two Year Myth**

**By Karen Carney**

**PsychCentral**

**psychcentral(dot)com/lib/2006/grief-healing-and-the-one-to-two-year-myth/**

**Grief and the grieving process**

**Behavioural Neurotherapy Clinic**

**www(dot)adhd(dot)com(dot)au/grief(dot)htm**


	11. Chapter 11

Waiting on a Friend: Chapter 11

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of S. Meyer, or themselves. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

AN: I always intended to at the very least be finished with this before the BD2 premiere, but I had twin babies about 3 months ago and a crazy pregnancy before that so...

While this story is not RPF, it does have some connections to real events. In fact, it starts at the BD2 premiere... so in spirit of that event, I have updated and will be trying to finish this story. Maybe before the DVD is released?

Playlist for this chapter:

Papa Roach – Forever (EPOV)

The Lovemakers – Times of Romance

AFI – Silver and Cold (EPOV)

Links to my WIP playlists and a banner for this story are on my profile page.

As always, enjoy!

I was late finishing up my weekly report, but as I hit the button to send it to my boss, I decided I had just enough time to sneak a peak at my e-mail and the alerts I so carefully scoured for news of Edward. Yes, I was off my "Edward Diet," mainly since I needed some kind of vice to get me through the divorce.

My life had spun back out of control since I'd told Jake I wanted a divorce. I'd been depending on him for a calm, emotionally supportive environment to heal, but now that he was hurting, we were back to turmoil.

His initial anger had burned fairly fast, after which he'd begged me to forgive him, as he would me, if we could just start over. I finally had to get mean with him after several attempts by him to get me to change my mind. I alluded to the fact that I still had feelings for Edward, feelings that were much more than those I'd ever felt for him. Of course this added fuel back to Jake's fire

Worse, I still hadn't identified the "other man" to Jake, and the fact that I wouldn't discuss Edward with him seemed to fuel his anger more.

To complicate matters, Jake was still living in the house with the kids and I, but slept most nights at the shop. He'd renovated a storage area behind his office into a small efficiency apartment, but was stuck in negotiations to buy the building next to the shop that included an apartment over the store front. He had dinner with the kids and I every night, but headed out the door as soon as they were in bed.

I was sad, but the most overwhelming feeling was relief, a relief comprised of lightness from letting go of my dark secret.

Another element that brought me relief was that I had a secret compatriot in my struggles. I wasn't the only one dealing with divorce.

Edward and Tanya's marriage had begun disintegrating just months after it had been made. It started with reports about Edward showing up at clubs alone, or with random friends, and their alcohol and drug fueled antics. It was quickly followed by news that Tanya was seen alone in New York and the entertainment reporters were on to that "trouble in paradise" story like sharks to blood. As Edward's misbehavior escaladed, no one was surprised when Tanya filed for divorce in absentia.

The past couple days, the news about Edward had focused on the terms of his divorce. Apparently, Tanya figured if she didn't get to have Edward, at least she could take most of his worldly possessions away with her. Every time I saw stories about her I wished through some miracle of virtual reality, I could slap the smile off her face.

But before the news of the divorce terms, most of the news had chronicled Edward's bad boy exploits and misdeeds. I had a few favorite videos from those stories, captured by cell phone and paparazzi cameras, which I repeatedly watched in sickened fascination.

In one of the more clear and detailed clips, Edward attempted to climb into to the back seat of a cab. Attempted meaning that he lurched into the side of the car, landed next to but not in the open door, slid down the body of the vehicle, was caught under the elbows by someone inside, while he ineffectually flailed his legs out from underneath himself.

The image of his Converse clad feet scraping along the pavement, but not finding purchase, gave a clue to how fucked-up he'd let himself get that evening. I was mesmerized by those ripped and worn shoes and their repeated fumbling along the same path, repeating the same motion, but still moving with the hope for a different result.

Even without his usually graceful motor skills and witty banter, I still found him utterly captivating on camera. Through the shaggy long hair, the beginnings of a beard and dark ringed eyes, I could still feel his appeal. Even at arguably the lowest point of his life, I could still respect that he'd lived his emotions. In fact, if anything I felt even more drawn to him, the both of us struggling just to survive the implosion of our lives.

As I scanned the list on my screen, skipping those merely speculating about the terms of the divorce, I noticed a new report about Edward's degenerating behavior seemed to be making the rounds on the Web. The report pointed to a video interview with a woman who recounted spending time with Edward the previous night. I found the source of the video and turned up the volume on my computer, needing to hear every word.

A woman with long brown hair and dark eyes accented by a full lid of smoky shadow was being interviewed by an off-screen reporter. She looked like all the women Edward had been reportedly seen with since his break from Tanya. She looked like me.

The video started abruptly in the middle of the interview, all the niceties from the introduction had been cut. The woman seemed to be responding to a prompt from the interviewer.

"He was completely incoherent. We were just partying, you know, I was flirting with him at a bar in Hollywood and he asked if I wanted leave. He was already pretty drunk when we left the bar, but we went back to his hotel room and had more drinks and did a little blow. Then he disappeared into the bathroom for a bit and could barely walk back to the couch. He collapsed next to me and pulled me on to his lap. He was surprisingly strong, but I wasn't really fighting it... I mean he's so hot, even when he's fucked up. I thought we were going to, you know, but then, he started whispering all this stuff in my ear that didn't make any sense."

At this point in the video, the interviewer asked what Edward had been whispering.

"Well, he kept calling me Beautiful Bella, which basically is the same thing twice, right...my family is Italian so I know what it means. He was touching me, but not sexually or anything, more like holding my hand and stroking my hair, but crazy like. It was not soothing. So then he started mumbling about 'knowing what he needed to do with me' and it freaked me out a bit. It sounded like something a serial killer might say, but he was so upset I didn't want to set him off so I just sat there trying to soothe him. That's when he started saying he needed to let me go, he needed to just let go. I tried telling him I would stay with him as long as he wanted, but that seemed to make him quite angry. I remember I started crying a bit at that point because he was freaking me out so much."

The interviewer asked if he did anything when he got angry.

"No, he just said that I'd already left, even though I was still sitting with him. Finally, he noticed my tears. He dried them with the corner of his shirt and then gave me a kiss. It was a weird kiss, it wasn't a French kiss or anything, he just held his lips to mine and sobbed a bit through his open lips. I remember he held his forehead against mine after he ended the kiss, which I remember because it was weird and freaked me out again. I was starting to wonder why I was still in the room with him and then he just said "I can't get over you" and leaned back and passed out."

"At that point I decided to bail, I was so freaked, but I told the people at the front desk about Edward's condition. They took my name and phone number just in case and I went home. I was awoken in the morning by a call from the police. Edward must have left the hotel just after I did because his room was empty when they tried to get him some help. So I guess no one knows where he is now and the police just wanted to see if I knew anything."

The reporter followed by asking her what she told the police.

"Just what I told you. That is everything I know. I swear he was passed out on the couch in his room when I left."

I video basically ended there and I was sobbing quietly into my hands by that point. I could picture Edward intense and angry, his blue eyes would be flashing and if he was doing drugs they were probably almost all that lovely stunning blue against a background of bloodshot red. His already deep, mumbley voice would have been hoarse and almost unintelligible. And hair was probably a wild mess. The woman in the video was right. He was so hot when he was fucked up.

But, he was obviously still suffering deeply, much like me, but his hell was played out publicly for the world to watch. I was very worried for him, but I knew I was powerless to help him. I was powerless to help myself. I was powerless to stop the end I knew was coming. If Edward was dead, my life was over too. Just knowing he still existed in the world, and I had the fucking godblessed Internet to keep me aware of it on a daily basis, was a requirement for my survival.

Considering my powerlessness in the face of the desperate situation, I turned to an unfamiliar, but not impossible form of comfort. For the first time since my parent's divorce when I was ten, I prayed. My childish prayers for my parents to remain together had gone unanswered, but it had all worked for the best in the end. Renee and Charlie were much happier apart.

So I prayed, mostly for Edward and a little bit for me and then a whole litany of all the people I'd unintentionally hurt through my selfish actions; Jake, Angela, and my children being the primary people, but I even prayed for those I most despised at the office because I'd been such a terrible co-worker for the past few years. It was like when in The Goonies when Chunk confessed to every one of his misdeeds. No hurt, however minor, was overlooked.

By the time I'd finished, I was fairly certain I was the only one left at the office, but I couldn't be sure. I didn't want anyone to see the state I was in after my crying jag, adding credence to rumors of another nervous breakdown, but I did need to get home soon. Jake would start an argument in front of the kids if I walked in too late.

After an uneventful dash from the office and train ride, I finally walked into the house, just a few minutes after my usual arrival time.

"Mommy, you ARE here?" Claire yelled and skipped towards me as I walked in the front door. "Daddy said you are going to go your away!" Claire's big brown eyes were bright with unshed tears and I pulled her into my arms before I even had my coat off. "I don't want you to go your away. I want you to stay here."

"Oh sweetie, I'm not going to go away anywhere. I'm here with you to stay." I poured all the contrition I'd felt during my prayer at the office into that hug with my daughter, hoping she could forgive me for bring this worry to her young life.

We held hands and walked together into the living room where we found Jake and Billy, both with their feet up on the coffee table watching a superhero cartoon. I was struck by how similar they were, both zoned out in front of the television, not even laughing at the stupid cartoon jokes. I wanted to comfort Billy the way I had his sister, but again, like his father, he wanted to stew in his anger.

After dinner, chores, and bedtime, Jake took off leaving me alone. He reported that the necessary paperwork for closing the sale on the building next to the shop would be ready in a couple days. I needed to sign some of the paperwork since my name was on the deed. I got the house, he got the garage; it was all very amicable.

Things were very quiet in the house at night now that Jake was elsewhere. Almost too quiet so I turned on the television for some background noise and grabbed a new bestseller on food and farming trends. It was for work, but it was well written and would hold my attention until I got sleepy.

I was ignoring the television until one particularly loud commercial at a chapter break. A spot for the local news came on warning me of a storm that was expected to arrive tomorrow and I made a mental note to send the kids to school with their umbrellas.

But, just as I was turning my attention back to the book, a certain name from the lips of the anchorwoman grabbed me.

Edward Cullen has been hospitalized after being pulled from the ocean after an apparent suicide attempt. More details and an update on his condition during our broadcast at eleven.

A wave of terror rushed over me and when I came to from a momentary stupor, I felt like I too had been pulled from the cold ocean. I felt a deep, painful flutter in that small Edward spot in my heart. My hands were shaking so I set the book aside and walked over to the kitchen table to retrieve my laptop on an equally shaky pair of legs.

All I could hear was the rapid pounding of my heartbeat in my ears as I waited to the laptop to power-on and a browser window to open. Then, I just needed to type his name in and click the news tab to find several stories that had been updated just moments before.

A brief scan of the first two items did nothing to slow my heart rate. Edward had been witnessed walking into the ocean by several beach strollers. Thankfully, one man and his companion noticed that the guy they had initially taken for a crazy, late night swimmer did not reemerge. The man's companion had been a life guard at some point and had ended up rescuing a face-down Edward. He was breathing, but unconscious and had not regained consciousness, even after being admitted to the hospital.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I frantically searched for the newest information about his condition, but other than the eyewitness account, no new details were known. Edward could be dying or dead in a hospital bed in LA, and here I was, unable to learn anything useful about his condition. Would I feel it in my heart if he was gone? I believed that I would, but at the same time, I knew it was a fantastical notion. My time with him had been so brief and was now so long ago, did we truly have any connection left for me to miss?

I tried to figure out what I should do, but I all of the natural urges I had to go to Edward, or speak to a person that could advise of his condition, like I would do for any other loved one, were stymied. I would have giggled at the crazy reaction I imagined from Edward's people if I called frantically, claiming to be his Beautiful Girl, if it hadn't been so correct. They would hang right up on my ass - if I could even reach through the layers of protective bureaucracy needed around Edward's personal affairs.

Eventually, the urge to speak to someone overcame my panic, and I picked up the phone to call the only person I could.

Angela.

She answered after just a couple rings.

"Ang, can you talk now?" I choked out between new sobs of relief that she answered and panic over Edward.

"Yea, I just leaving work, what's up? You seem upset, what did Jake pull now?" she asked, obviously still unaware of what was happening with Edward.

""No, it's Edward," I sobbed louder, almost incoherently. "He's hurt. Just check your news."

After a minute of so I heard Angela's gasp.

"Bella, sweetie, do you need me to come there?" she asked, voice full of compassion.

"No," I said and shock my head like she could see me hunched over the kitchen counter in my misery. "I just needed someone who would understand."

"I'm here for you," she reassured me, and then proceeded to calm me down with assurances about the medical care Edward was sure to be getting and the fact that news was sure to be broadcast the minute his condition changed.

This lead to me clicking the refresh button on my browser every 20 seconds, both, hoping for and dreading any new information. But, the whole hour I had Angela on the phone and for a couple after I had finally calmed down enough to let her go, nothing changed.

As I felt the despair settle over me once again as the minutes ticked by, I turned the prayer for the second time in the long time to ask God for a miracle. I didn't ask for our reunion, or Jake to forgive me, or for any of those I had wronged. This time, all I asked was that Edward recover, that he continue to exist in the world, so that I might be strong enough to remain and take care of my family. I couldn't exist if I didn't know he was somewhere in this world.

Eventually, I crawled into bed, exhausted, but it was a fitful sleep, and by the time I needed to be up and functional in the morning, I knew I would have to call in sick. I got the kids ready and off to school, although they seemed hesitant to believe I was just sick. Claire in particular kept asking me if I would have to go away to get well again.

I tried to reassure her, but I'm sure I was not too convincing. I didn't know what to expect myself. I spent the day glued to the Internet again, but no new details of his condition were released. Edward's fan sites were full of well-wishes and the only development was a short video of Tanya arriving at the hospital in LA.

When Jake showed up afterschool with the kids, thankfully he accepted the story of my illness, and took them out for food at a local diner. I took over and put the kids to bed, but I was anxious to be too far away from the computer, lest I miss something while I was offline. For that same reason I was hesitant to go to sleep, but I made myself take a mild sleeping pill so I would be functional the next day.

The next week passed in the same fashion, accept for I was glued to the Internet at work instead of at home. Thankfully, it was a quiet week and Congress was not in session so I was able to blow off most of my work responsibilities. I was equally useless at home and Jake started grumbling about my going to see Dr. Gerandy more frequently again. I'd confided the situation to her, but there wasn't much she could do to alleviate this crisis. She thought my anxiety would be too high if I tried to ignore in situation, but she did counsel me to limit how often I was checking for news, especially since I didn't know how I would react to any news. We decided to give it a week before I made any decisions.

However, a whole week hadn't yet passed when news that did force a decision reached me.

I was sitting at my desk and refreshed the browser, expecting to see no real new news, so I gasped out loud when an announcement stating that Jasper Whitlock had called a press conference to give an update on Edward's condition. Normally, he preferred his privacy, as did Edward, so I was unsure of how I should react. I didn't think they would call a press conference if Edward had died. It seemed like they would just announce the news and show the same images of the hospital and his friends and family coming and going like they had been airing all week. But, I was still worried.

The press conference was scheduled for later that afternoon and I left work early so I could be at home to watch the live feed on my laptop. That way, I could disintegrate from the privacy of home, without witnesses at work or on the train.

The press conference was set just outside of the hospital, maybe as a stark reminder to those watching to the seriousness of the situation. Jasper looked very tired and care worn as he slowly approached the stand of microphones. With his sunken eyes and disarrayed hair, he brought to mind the character that had catapulted his career to stardom.

"Thank you all for coming," he started, polite as always, even during this time of obvious stress. "First, let me reassure everyone that Edward is still in stable condition, unconscious, but stable."

I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I was holding, tears uncontrollably filling my eyes, and silent prayers of thanks passing my lips.

"However, as time passes, chances for his full recovery grow less and less. So, we, being Edward's family and friends, have made a rather drastic decision to try to improve his chances to regain consciousness."

Jasper's voice broke on the last syllable and a young woman I recognized as his girlfriend, Alice, stepped forward and placed a hand on his forearm in reassurance. At some point during my Edward embargo, Jasper and Maria had gone through a spectacular break-up, complete with their own media circus, but at that time I'd been focused on minimizing Edwards, and I was still unsure of all the details.

"I know some believed that when Edward married Tanya, he was marrying the person he had referred to as Beautiful Girl, but in fact, Tanya was not that person. That person is still out there, and now we are making a plea for her to come forward."

At his point, Jasper looked right into the camera, his blue eyes boring their way into mine from across the miles.

I choked in another breath, realizing that I was probably about to be identified publically, and my pulse pounded deafeningly through my ears. I took another breath, trying not to hyperventilate, to control my physiological reactions so I could focus on the words as Jasper said them.

Thankfully, he too had paused, overcome by emotion, before proceeding. But instead of the concern and despair I expected to see on his expression, annoyed anger was the prominent emotion I saw as I refocused on my screen.

Sneering through a clenched jaw, he said, "In respect for her privacy, I won't name her." Not that I had, but if I had entertained any thoughts of Jasper being supportive of the connection between Edward and I, I wouldn't anymore. His hatred for me was apparent.

He continued with directions that would allow them to find me without contacting me through normal channels.

"We ask her to check into the hotel where she once dropped Edward off to meet me. A reservation will be held under her real name for the next week. If we don't have any contact within that week, her name will be released publicly in an attempt bring her forward."

I was surprised and grateful that my privacy still seemed to be a protected commodity, although one that would be used against me if I didn't compile with their wishes.

Jasper let out a deep sigh, anguish back on his face. I could tell he hated delivering this ultimatum, no matter how much his dislike for me. He seemed to be a gentle soul who would not normally wish malice upon another. Unless they were, like me, inflicting harm upon those he loved.

"No questions," he requested as he moved away from the makeshift podium with Alice at his side. The press conference had served its only purpose – to send a message to me. And I had received it.

It was time to go to Edward.


End file.
